


London Calling

by BawdyBean, bookscorpion



Series: The World of Us [2]
Category: Shadowrun: Hong Kong, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Consensual Kink, Culture Shock, Domestic Fluff, Fandom Blind Friendly, Fluff, M/M, Platonic Relationship in the Polycule, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn with Feelings, Smut, The Polycule develops, strangers in a strange land
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 118,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22363516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BawdyBean/pseuds/BawdyBean, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion/pseuds/bookscorpion
Summary: When Geralt and Eskel visit the orks in London, everywhere around them lights flash and cultures clash. Duncan and Rhys guide the witchers as they learn to navigate the Sixth World, discovering things that amaze and thrill them along the way.In final chapterWith the comforting weight of Geralt's legs across his own, Rhys leaned into Eskel and took a swig of his beer. He would miss this, all of them together. And he hated thinking about the fact that when he was back on the Continent, Eskel would go back on the Path eventually.One last evening.
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Rhys Morgan, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Duncan Wu
Series: The World of Us [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612003
Comments: 208
Kudos: 32





	1. London Calling

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel to [Orkish Delight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20695814/chapters/49159487) :) Please Enjoy!
> 
> Content notes for chapters in the end notes

Rhys gave a little sigh. He would be glad to be finally home, after the drive up from Wales. They had left the car and taken the Underground to their apartment, it would only be another twenty minutes. 

It was crowded enough that none of them had gotten a seat. Eskel and Geralt stood with their backs to one of the plexiglass dividers, with Duncan shielding them and creating a little space. Both witchers looked immensely uncomfortable. Rhys could practically see the culture shock set in. 

There was a lot to take in. Going from rural Wales to one of the biggest sprawls in the world at a speed that must have seemed insane to both of them. Geralt had taken that better than Eskel, eager for all the new sights. 

The sheer crowds on the streets and on the train and the barrage of noise, smells and bright, blinking advertisements had been too much for Geralt, too. Rhys looked around, trying to see it with the eyes of someone from another time and world and winced a little.

There was just so _much_ of everything. Even without the ability to see augmented reality, every piece of advertisement was made to be intrusive. With movement and color drawing the eye but not allowing it to focus. 

Into the constant hum of the engines here blended the voices of all the people talking with each other or on their commlinks or maybe to themselves. Rhys couldn't decide it if was better or worse than on the street, where the roar of the city was a noise he didn't even consciously hear any longer but which must have been deafening to the witchers.

The closer they got to their home, the more orks and trolls were in the crowd. It did nothing for the cramped space, on a train built with humans in mind. There were a couple of would be gangers showing off their cyberware to each other and to everyone within ear shot. 

Nothing major, mostly small-time stuff little better than a piercing. One of them had apparently lost his tusks in a fight and had new and better ones implanted. They bragged about datajacks, razor claws, the compound eyes a friend of a friend now had. They all got _really_ quiet when a troll got on the train, rocking the entire car, whose t-shirt did nothing to cover his bulky metal arms, shiny and chrome.

Rhys caught both of the witchers staring and then carefully dropping their gaze, obviously mindful of how much they were out of their depth.

Maybe they should have taken the car after all, but that would have meant being stuck in traffic for much longer.

Moving a little closer to Eskel, Rhys touched his hand, ran a finger over his palm. The gesture was hidden from everyone else by Duncan's broad back. Duncan, seeing Rhys touch Eskel, shifted so that Geralt could lean into him without it being too obvious.

"We'll be home soon. Just a short walk and then we're there." Rhys pitched his voice low, but both the witchers would hear him.

***

The touch on his hand startled Eskel but he was careful not to let it show, not to jerk away and draw even more attention to himself and Geralt. They had already garnered a few strange looks of worry and he wasn’t sure if it was because people knew they didn’t belong—he didn’t think it was. These looks seemed a lot more like the usual _you might cause trouble_ looks he was used to, it was just that the new landscape was making him interpret things differently. 

If he could even call this a landscape. There wasn’t much actual ground—dirt or grass—in sight, it was all steel and a mortar-like cement. Rhys' finger moving on his palm drew his attention again and he refused to look down as much as he wanted to. 

No one could see it, he knew, but it frightened him that someone would. At the same time it comforted him. At least Geralt and him weren’t coming to this crazy place alone. Rhys and Duncan would watch out for them, they had to. They were essentially _naked_. They had left their armor and swords in the safe storage chest at Dandy’s. For reasons Eskel didn’t really understand this was supposedly safer. 

He definitely did not feel safer right now though. Senses on high alert to everything and unable to discern what was a danger and what was normal everyday for here, Eskel was relieved to hear that they would be at the orks' place sooner rather than later. Also he was glad that at least Rhys had given him something close to his leathers for pants. The leather was thinner, lighter, and he had to admit nicer. At least if he got thrown into a wall it would save some of his skin.

Instead of looking down at Rhys’ hand, or touching back, like he really wished he could, Eskel looked up from where he was pointedly staring into the wall of what Rhys had called the Underground to look him in the eye. It was obvious Rhys was worried about him. “‘M gonna be fine. Jus’ need to get to your place an’ have a minute.”

***

Leaning into Duncan in a barely noticeable way Geralt took comfort in hearing Eskel’s voice out loud. He hadn’t spoken much since they had left Rhys’ parents, and that was quite a while ago. Eskel was normally quiet and easy going, but Geralt could feel the tension rolling off of him. There was a note of truth in his voice too. If the orks just got Eskel inside and gave him time to adjust to seeing all this he would be able to relax.

Geralt could sympathize, he was uptight himself. The ride down had been exhilarating. Beautiful scenery at an unbelievable speed, whizzing by the windows, and the inside of the car was perfectly still, not even wind whipping his hair. Until he insisted on being allowed to roll the window down. Eventually though that had given way to city, more city than Geralt had ever imagined. Duncan had warned him it was huge, but this, this was beyond huge. Loud, unfiltered sound assaulted his ears at every step, and the lights flickered, flashing brightly in his eyes telling him to buy, come, see, do.

The smell was something like a sweaty stagnant pond. Geralt could almost handle that. He’d walked through enough sewers on jobs that he’d gotten used to terrible smells. It would have been nice if it smelled better but he could live with it. 

By the time they had gotten underneath the earth onto the Underground, a novel way of traveling here, Geralt had managed to squeeze his pupils down to the tiniest of lines. It made the world fairly dark, but he could see, and then when a pompous ass sign popped up flashing next to him he didn’t go blind suddenly like walking out in full sun on Cat. 

He would talk to Duncan and see if they made glasses like the ones he had seen at an auction once here, that darkened things up. A lot of the people in their little car here were wearing some form of thing on their eyes already, it seemed logical they had those here too, even if they were rare on the Continent.

As far as being able to hear everyone talking about everything, Geralt wasn’t sure how to turn that off yet, short of Duncan spinning him in circles which he was sure would draw way too much attention. People were talking about fights and replacing parts, and compound eyes. Like new weird eyes were the latest greatest things. It occurred to Geralt that Rhys was right, their eyes and his strange hair would fit right in here.

That was a nice feeling, even if the eyes were currently giving him a headache from the lights. Geralt had never been to a place where looking like he was in his prime with white hair and cat eyes wasn’t the thing that would draw attention to him. Pulling the hood of the clothes Rhys had supplied a little further around his head, hoping to block out some of the noise and light, Geralt sighed softly at the comfort of contact with Duncan. If Duncan wasn’t worried about it getting them hurt he wouldn’t worry either.

He missed his swords, but Rhys had given him leather pants that weren’t too much different from his own leathers, and had told him the hoodie was armored even though it didn’t look or feel like it all. A little further and they would be at the orks' place. Hopefully it would be quieter. They could give Eskel a hug, have a bite to eat, relax, he could figure out what he needed to function in all this noise and light, and everything would be fine.

***

The Underground finally delivered them in Bloomsbury and after a climb up the stairs - the escalators were predictably out of order again - they stood on the street. It was not as crowded here and there even was a little park. Most of the buildings were quite small and old. At least by the standards of modern day London. 

It was an area favoured by orks and trolls and its reputation was not all that good. But both Rhys and Duncan felt at home here and hadn't moved away even though they could afford it easily. They _liked_ their neighbors and were well liked in turn. 

When Rhys opened the front door, they ran right into a gaggle of troll teens who ogled the witchers with open curiosity but only said hello and then let them enter before piling out of the door. 

"--did you see the cat's eye implants? That's so sick--" Their excited discussion was cut short by Duncan shutting the door and Rhys lead the way up to the apartment.

Inside, Rhys leaned against the door for a moment. He had grown very worried for Eskel who hadn't said anything at all for the rest of the trip and only a couple of words all day. Right now, Rhys had serious doubts about the wisdom of bringing the witchers here.

Duncan caught his eye and gave him a encouraging smile. He opened the door to the bedroom and ushered the witchers inside, showing them where they'd sleep and could store their things.

Rhys went to make tea. While he waited for the kettle to boil, he heard the sound of running water and Geralt's delighted laugh. Not long after that, Duncan stepped into the kitchen and hugged Rhys from behind.

"Give them a moment to settle down. They'll come join us when they're ready." Duncan bent down to place a kiss behind Rhys ear.

Turning in his arms, Rhys cast a spell to talk to him without the witchers hearing. "I'm worried this is too much? Did we fuck up, bringing them here?"

Duncan kissed him again, pressed his forehead to Rhys'. "They just need a moment. Maybe a night's sleep. They'll be fine." 

"Come on, let's have tea. I need to sit down." Duncan spoke aloud again and carried the tray of mugs and a cookie plate over into the living room. Bringing the tea pot, Rhys joined him there and curled up against Duncan, back resting against his chest. 

The little vine on its shelf above the couch rustled its leaves and Rhys reached up to pet it, got a small hug from its tendrils before it returned to being quiet again. He took a sip from his chai and breathed in the smell of spices. Together with Duncan's warmth against his back, it quieted his mind. He put down the mug of tea and closed his eyes, turning on his side.

***

The warm water streaming out of the metal tap on the wall was absolutely amazing. As soon as he was sure they were alone Geralt set about stripping both himself and Eskel naked, and then dragging Eskel underneath it. It was like a heated waterfall. No. Warm rain, that was it. No Igni required.

Geralt was sure it would help Eskel let go of some of the stress of the trip here. For once Eskel was willing to let Geralt lead and was easily peeled out of his own clothing. Unlike Geralt’s, his gray and black hoodie came undone along the front with a satisfying noise when Geralt undid the tiny metal teeth by pulling the tab. The maroon shirt that Rhys had given Eskel was something to behold him in, but Geralt promised himself he’d look another time, when he didn’t have an aching head and a stressed out man on his hands.

Their leather pants weren’t too hard to get off, a button, and another small set of metal teeth with a tag. Undoing his ponytail, Geralt pulled Eskel in under the streams of water.

The heavy sigh and Eskel drawing him into his own arms was answer enough that Geralt had guessed right. This would not only soothe his own aching head and overwhelmed senses, but take the edge away from the stress Eskel was feeling.

***

Sure that they were alone and convinced that the orks' apartment was as safe as their own home, Eskel let his guard fall down finally. The water running over his shoulders, face and arms felt wonderful. Hot, strong, and never ending. He turned around with Geralt in his arms to let it hit his back, tipping his head to soak his hair. At least here it was quiet. The water splattering all around them drowned out any other noises from outside the tiny room.

There was a click and Geralt was sudsing some liquid soap in his hair. He had no idea what kind but it didn’t smell bad and Geralt’s fingers in his hair felt great so he didn’t argue. Rinsing his own soap away while Geralt scrubbed his own hair, Eskel returned his smile. It would be fine. He was glad he came, he just needed time. There was so much out there to deal with, he needed to take it slowly, he couldn’t jump right in like Geralt seemed so prepared to do.

They traded places and Eskel helped Geralt rinse his hair, smoothing it out. He leaned in and kissed Geralt full on the mouth. “Thank you. This helped a lot, ‘m gonna be fine. Promise.” He moved down and kissed Geralt’s neck.

“I know you will be.” Geralt turned a knob behind himself and the water went away. Eskel frowned at him comically. 

“What? You can’t hide in here forever. Even witchers wrinkle in water. Aaand,” Geralt drug the word out, “witchers need to eat, especially this one.”

Grinning the tiniest bit Eskel let out a small chuckle. “Alright. Let’s get dressed then, you can go see if Duncan can help you get some food made.” After a pause Eskel added, “An’ maybe you could send Rhys in? I need to jus’ spend some time alone with him for a little bit. If you don’t mind? Need’ta let him know ‘m alright. He’s really worried I can tell. Then I’ll come eat too.”

Geralt nodded easily at the suggestion and that made Eskel feel better. He didn’t want Geralt to think he wasn’t going to be around while Geralt got used to this place too, but he _knew_ that look plastered on Rhys’ face in the other room when Duncan had shown them their space here. He was also pretty confident his own action or inaction was the cause of it, and the best way to put that at ease was to talk to and touch Rhys. Touching Rhys was something he preferred to do in private.

They dried off with the towels sitting right there. They were far more absorbent and fluffier than any towel Eskel had ever encountered before, and he took longer than usual because frankly it felt good. Even the shirt and what Rhys had told him was called a hoodie, a type of overcoat, that Rhys had given him were made of a softer cotton than what Eskel was used to encountering. That wasn’t even taking into account the shorts that went under his new leather pants. Those were downright distracting in their own right.

While Geralt stepped out into the apartment to find the orks, Eskel remained sitting on the side of the bed thinking how nice these clothes would be to sleep in compared to his armor. His wet hair was tousled, looking a few shades darker than its usual mahogany but no longer dripping after he had toweled it several times.

When Rhys entered the room extremely slowly and quietly, Eskel looked up and smiled at him, rolling onto the bed to lay down. He patted the bed in front of himself. “C’mon lay down with me for jus’ a bit?” His movements were fluid and easy again. At least here inside the apartment he felt safe, comfortable with the people he cared about.

“Are you alright?” Rhys climbed onto the bed and was immediately drawn into Eskel. “You were so tense before, and you have hardly talked at all.”

Allowing himself to just _be_ , Eskel wrapped his arms around Rhys, slung a leg around Rhys’ own, and buried his face in Rhys’ neck to breathe deeply. Letting out the breath slowly against Rhys’ neck Eskel spoke softly. “I will be.” The softest of kisses to Rhys’ neck added weight to his words.

“‘S jus’ a lot out there. In here, in your apartment I feel safe, an’ I can be me. But out there, my eyes see everythin’ an’ everyone, an’ ‘s all fast movement an’ that tends to register as a threat first? I don’ know yet what’s a real threat an’ what’s not here. It’s overwhelmin’. Add in all the lights, which’re fine if it’s already bright out, but underground where my eyes adjust to the dark ‘m goin’ blind half the time.” Eskel burrowed further into Rhys, using his hand behind Rhys’ head to encourage Rhys to cuddle him back. Much like Geralt in the shower, Eskel craved the safe touch now, here where no one could see it.

“‘M not as good at change as Geralt is. He’s probably already ready to step outside again. ‘M not. It’s incredibly loud out there. I hear even better than you, ‘member? Every person talking on that Underground, I hear their whispers, their normal talking, the clacking of their keys when they push them. A mouse farts at the other end and I hear it.” Eskel laughed into Rhys’ skin. “Jus’ help me. I know you will. I need to learn what’s normal here an’ not. Like touching my hand, it made me feel better ‘cause I knew you were there for me. But it also scared me ‘cause I thought someone might see us, even though Duncan was blocking everyone’s view. But then Geralt leaned on Duncan an’ no one batted an eye, so I prolly worried for nothin’. An’ if you an’ me go somewhere, I’d prefer to walk if we can.”

***

"No one would have cared if they had seen or I wouldn't have done it." Rhys hugged Eskel to himself, his fingers buried in Eskel's hair.

"We can go slow. There's a lot of stuff to see within walking distance and if you don't want to go out, we'll just stay here and cuddle. We'll figure something out about the noise. Let me talk to Duncan, I think I know how to solve this." Wrapping himself around Eskel, Rhys rested his chin on the top of Eskel's head.

"Duncan's making dinner. If you want to, you can have a nap. I'll stay here, he'll get us when it's ready, it won't take long. I'm sure he can keep Geralt occupied." Rhys grinned, Duncan had already conscripted Geralt into chopping vegetables by the time he had left to find Eskel.

With a low hum, Eskel nestled even closer into him. Rhys took that as agreement to the nap.

***

Geralt followed Duncan around the kitchen like a puppy, but Duncan didn't mind in the slightest. He was glad to see Geralt bounce back from the overwhelmed state he had been in so quickly. And he believed Geralt when he had said that Eskel would be okay, too, with a little time.

When Duncan opened the fridge to get the chicken, Geralt leaned forward to get a closer look at all the things inside. "Does _everyone_ have those? How does this work?"

"Uh- Really well, thank you for asking?" Duncan got to work cutting the chicken breast to pieces. "I actually can't explain? There's stuff in it that keeps things cold, but not like an icehouse. We can look it up later? But yeah, they're really common. The one below is even colder, you can store stuff there for months."

He realized that he wouldn't be able to really explain a great many things. There was such a lot of stuff he took for granted in his life every day that just _worked_ when he pushed a button. 

Dropping everything in the boiling water, Duncan set the soup to simmer, washed his hands and collected Geralt from the pantry. He had gotten lost in there, just looking at all the different boxes and cans.

They settled on the couch, each with a mug of chai and Geralt leaning into Duncan just the way Rhys had done earlier. Duncan gave a little shiver of happiness at having everyone together like this.

He pinged Rhys half an hour later to announce dinner and was glad to see Eskel looking much more relaxed when they both came into the living room, if still a little tired. 

When they sat down to eat, Duncan took a moment to look around, wondering at the unlikeliness of events that had led them here. There was a little fear there, fear at having it all come crashing down any day now. But he pushed it away, reminded himself to enjoy what he had _now_ and leave the future to itself.

***

Geralt woke with a start. The room smelled wrong—no hint of wood, grapevines, or grass—and there were sounds he didn’t recognize buzzing far in the background. Eskel was curled in front of him though, the smell of his juniper shave soap faint and fading but still present. There was a waft of something delicious from outside the room that was distinctly food.

Quickly he reconnected the dots and put together where he was. London. The orks' world. A place full of new and honestly _amazing_ things. Smiling excitedly to himself Geralt wrapped his arms tighter around Eskel, dragging him back against himself. 

It was a bit surprising that he was awake before Eskel. It usually went the other way, but Eskel had been worn out when they crawled into bed. At first trying to get in fully clothed before Geralt softly reminded him that the apartment was like home and there was no need to sleep in what amounted to armor. Eskel had relented, keeping only the boxers and soft cotton shirt, mumbling about them being comfortable.

The bed had been something else and Geralt saw why Eskel had so easily fallen into a nap with Rhys before dinner the night before. It was soft but firm, with covers that were extremely comfortable, pulling him into sleep despite the light intrusions of outside noise. Worlds apart from a bedroll with a saddle bag for a pillow. The smooth cotton of Eskel’s shirt against his chest was pleasant too. 

Compared to their world this one was full of luxuries around every corner that the orks seemed to think were nothing but normal.

Twitching and stirring in front of him, Eskel eventually groaned and rolled over, dark honey eyes blinking open. “Mornin’.” A rough stubbly face was promptly buried up against his chest as Eskel took a deep breath.

“Hey, you.” Geralt ran his fingers through Eskel’s hair once and then down the side of his face covering Eskel’s scars with his hand, warming them up. “You doing better?”

“Mhm. Jus’ a lotta noise, an’ everythin’ moves so Gods Damned fast, sorta freaks out my senses.” Eskel turned his head up into Geralt’s hand and Geralt happily obliged the silent request for a face massage. Working his fingers deftly into Eskel’s scars exactly the way Eskel liked the most, soothing the ever present ache for a little while.

“You should see the things in the kitchen.” Geralt couldn’t hold back a smile and it must have leaked into his voice because a little one answered it on Eskel’s face.

“Oh yeah?” Not bothering to open his eyes Eskel continued to enjoy Geralt’s touch while Geralt rambled excitedly.

“Yeah, there’s this thing, called a fridge. It keeps raw food fresh and cold, and below it is a thing called a freezer that is like a miniature icehouse, where you can freeze things for months. But neither works by using ice? Its strange. And apparently most people have one in their house. Can you believe that?” Eskel had opened his eyes and was looking at Geralt with not so well hidden wonder. “Not having to hunt if you want fresh meat? That’s how we had chicken in the soup last night that tasted so fresh. It was _fresh_ —from the fridge.”

“Oh! And the stove. Duncan just set the pot on the stove, it has four rings like campfires, and turned the right knob for the ring he was using. Instant flame like Igni, but Duncan says it's not magic, just gas and mechanical parts that light the it.” Now Eskel seemed really interested in what he had to say.

“So they jus’ pull their food out of this cold box an’ cook it,” Eskel motioned as if he was turning an imaginary knob, “no need to make sure they have wood or something to burn?”

“Yeah! Pretty interesting huh?” The smell of whatever Duncan had started to prepare the night before for breakfast was really getting to Geralt’s stomach now, an audibly loud growl rumbled between them.

“‘S really interestin’. We should shave an’ go see what they’re makin’.” Geralt frowned slightly at Eskel’s suggestion of shaving, but quickly perked back up because if he shaved he’d get to go see more things.

***

Eskel suddenly realized he had his shave soap but not his straight razor with him. They hadn’t brought anything even resembling a weapon and apparently a razor like that counted. Sighing he was sure Rhys would have something since Rhys was as fastidious about shaving as he was. “Actually, can’t shave yet, don’ have anythin’ to shave _with_.” 

Rolling his eyes at Geralt’s gleeful grin Eskel turned out of his arms and sat on the edge of the bed. It was a really fucking comfortable bed too. Geralt got up and went through the adjoining door to the bathroom to use the toilet. A few more new words he’d learned after dinner, when it had dawned on him he hadn’t taken a piss all day. 

The rattle of metal on ceramic and the whoosh of water was shortly followed by Geralt coming back out with a shit-eating grin. “That.” He pointed emphatically at the direction of the entire bathroom. “Is never going to get old.”

Getting up to do the same as Geralt, Eskel nodded in passing. “I know.” Must be nice to never have to hike to an outhouse. 

When he returned to the room Geralt was already in his leather pants and pulling on a long sleeved cotton shirt. The fit was tight and Eskel admired it. Rhys had good taste, the dark aquamarine blue brought out the gold in Geralt’s eyes in a way that would have made him nervous on the Continent, but he’d already seen enough weird eyes here to convince him it likely wasn’t an issue.

Eskel changed his shorts and pulled on his leather pants, questioning if he should change the shirt he slept in. He liked it. It was supremely soft and comfortable. Also Rhys had easily chosen his favorite color. By the time he decided he didn’t care and was keeping it on Geralt had his hair brushed up into a ponytail and was barely able to contain his excitement at having a new day to explore.

Down the hall and to the left they entered the kitchen quietly. Eskel had only heard one set of feet moving around and he was sure Geralt had caught that was well. Busy at the stove was Duncan, frying something that smelled like fresh dough and spring onions. Smiling widely at both of them Duncan nodded at the table.

On the table there were two sets of small black devices at two spots next to each other, and Eskel took that to mean that those were their seats. As soon as they sat down, Duncan removed a crispy piece of dough from the pan and came over with two mugs of a strong spiced hot tea.

“Chai.” Duncan set a mug in front of each of them. “It’s a kind of tea. We can also get you coffee if you want. Breakfast will be done in a minute and Rhys will be out.” Pointing at the tiny black devices Duncan smiled again. “Those are for you.” Heading back to his pan on what Eskel assumed from Geralt’s description was the stove, Duncan returned to cooking. “Noise cancelling earbuds. Rhys said the sound was deafening outside, these will tune it out for you so you only hear what you want to.”

“Thank you.” Looking down at the tiny black things Eskel had no idea how it would work but he believed they did. He had known Rhys and Duncan would help them. “I mean it. ‘S gonna help us a lot.”

Glancing up Geralt was already alternating between blowing on and sipping his chai. Eskel took a drink. It was a whirl of mixed flavors, cardamom (a spice Eskel only knew through Rhys), cinnamon, anise, cloves, even peppercorns. All thrown into the background of strong black tea, something incredibly sweet, and milk. Cow’s milk. Eskel hadn’t seen a cow anywhere near this part of the world. 

“‘S this _cow’s_ milk?” Trying to keep the look of incredulity out of his face he was pretty sure by Duncan’s own face that he failed.

“Um, yes? What else would- oh.” Duncan served some pancakes up onto plates. “Cow’s milk is normal here? They ship it to the city on cold trucks. Stored, like the fridge. Not everyone has to own a cow or visit someone who does. There are stores. You’ll see. We’ll take you.” Eskel watched on, trying to process that tidbit as Duncan added small bowls of sauce to the plates and then pinged Rhys on his comm.

***

Rhys padded into the kitchen barefoot and with an empty cup of tea in his hand, still looking only half-awake. But he was awake enough to affectionately hug first Geralt and then Eskel from behind, just a quick squeeze. He did linger a bit longer with Eskel, long enough to make sure Eskel was feeling better.

He traded Eskel his mug of chai for one with green tea when Eskel admitted that the many different tastes were a bit much for him. Over breakfast, they set up the earbuds so the witchers wouldn't be overwhelmed by the noise but still heard everything they wanted to hear. 

Duncan and Geralt were in full swing making plans to spend the day all over London and Geralt was already bouncing in his seat, almost half out of it. Rhys and Eskel decided with a shared glance not to join them.

"Go, I'll clean up. Have fun." Rhys leaned back in his chair to get a kiss from Duncan on his way to get the backpack with provisions he had already packed.

Geralt was halfway to the bedroom before coming back to Eskel to hug him and for a murmured conversation about Eskel being fine with staying behind. After the door fell shut behind Duncan and Geralt, Rhys took a deep breath and pushed away from the table. He cleaned everything up while Eskel shaved with his spare razor and then took Eskel up to the roof to the garden.

"It's not much this early but it's enough for Duncan and me with some to spare. We usually barter with our neighbors for other things. Like honey or chickens, the one we had yesterday for example." Rhys pointed at the neighboring roof where someone had built a chicken run. Two bee hives on their own roof were already busy, the bees flying around them, making a curve in their usual flight path to come and check them out.

Rhys' own garden, in pots, crates, barrels and some raised beds, was slowly waking up after the winter. A little hothouse held new plants not yet ready to be outside, but others had already been planted. 

Below, life on the street was a lot less busy than elsewhere in London but Rhys was still conscious of how loud everything was. He was normally so used to it that he didn't notice, but right now he _listened_ to the roar of the city, the passing cars, planes overhead and the noise of a great many people out on the street on a warm spring day.

A white and black checkered police surveillance drone dipped from its path for a quick check on them, similar to the bees but much less benevolent. Rhys ignored it.

From their roof, they had a good view of the street and the little park on the other side, the trees already unfolding their leaves. The streets old building were run-down and often in need of renovations. Many roofs had sprouted a garden or people kept rabbits, chickens or other small animals in sheds and huts. Balconies, as far as they existed, had been turned into tiny gardens as well.

***

Tracking the black and white machine that was still flying away out of the side of his eye, Eskel suppressed the desire to give Rhys a hug. “What’s with the mechanical bird?”

There was a moment before Rhys answered, and Eskel was sure he was trying to put it into the right words. “Those are called drones. Some are controlled by people, others run on preset instructions. Each of them belongs to a person or a group of people.” Walking between the boxes and raised beds Rhys petted the leaves of his tiny growing plants. Eskel followed him easily. He liked the garden already, it was normal, something he knew.

“Some of the drones mean no harm, or offer services—like delivering goods to our door. Others have less positive intentions. It can observe you, but unless you are doing something worth watching it will ignore you and move on. Like that one did.” Rhys had stopped and clasped his hands in front of himself.

“Alright.” Eskel disliked that idea of flying things in the air that could watch him, but it hadn’t seemed to bother Rhys so he was going to let his gut follow Rhys on that one. It bothered him slightly that he hadn’t heard the drone approach, the earbuds worked wonders at blocking out the ambient buzz of background noise. It was a small price to pay though for being able to be outside and not be assaulted by din of mechanical noise and other people’s conversations. He could focus on Rhys and that was worth it.

Offering Rhys a genuine smile, scars and all, Eskel turned in a circle to take the garden in again. “I really like this. That you two grow food, an’ trade for it. It makes me happy to see. It seems weird not knowing where your food came from? Duncan said the milk comes from a store. I kinda want to see one, an’ I kinda don’t, ‘cause ‘s prolly gonna be huge an’ overwhelming.”

The thought still seemed funny to him. Go to a place, buy cow’s milk. No cow around. No big deal. But it was sort of interesting. There were foods he loved he wished were easier to get.

Moving past Rhys to get a better view of the park Eskel looked out over the city around them. There was a lot of brick and mortar, but dots of green here and there too. People had made gardens for themselves wherever there was space, and seeing it he let out a contented sigh. This world would not be so different after all.

“That park over there,” nodding in the direction of the bigger space of green in the distance Eskel looked back at Rhys, “think we could pack a lunch an’ walk to it later? It doesn’t look like it’d be full of people.” Eskel was glad to see Rhys smile at the idea. “I do wanna see your home. Jus’ tiny bits at a time.” Returning Rhys smile Eskel gave him a hopeful look.

***

"Sure we can. And I can show you a store that's not very big but it definitely sells milk. In fact, we need groceries for dinner, want to come with me and get them?" Rhys leaned on the low brick wall around the edge of the roof, looking up at Eskel from below. He seemed a lot more relaxed today. Still on edge somewhat but not completely overwhelmed.

"Yeah, I'd like that. Do you think they'll have citrus fruit? The sweet ones?" Eskel visibly perked up at the thought.

Rhys grinned, delighted that he could easily fulfill that wish. "I'm pretty sure they will. I need to water some plants, then we can go."

When they finally made it to the park, lunch in a backpack, Eskel seemed glad of it. They had spent some time wandering the neighborhood and even in this more quiet part of the city, there had been so many new things.

The corner store alone had taken them a good hour, with Eskel wandering around and trying to figure out what all the boxes and tins were. Rhys had done the shopping and had added oranges, some beer and a chocolate bar at Eskel's request.

When they came back to the house, a couple of the troll kids from yesterday had been hanging around, obviously _not_ waiting to get another look at Eskel. They had seemed quietly impressed and had casually moved off when they had seen enough.

Rhys had brought a blanket so they could sit on the grass under the old plantain trees, amidst the old gravesites. The bluebells were in full bloom and they carefully picked a spot where they wouldn't crush any of them. It was warm enough to sit in just a t-shirt in the sun and Rhys took the opportunity, he was hungry for sunshine after the winter.

Eskel was sitting at a carefully measured distance. It hadn't escaped Rhys that Eskel was glad to casually touch and cuddle him as long as they were in the apartment but kept his hands to himself as soon as they stepped outside. Rhys had to keep reminding himself to not touch, like he would with Duncan. 

Instead, he busied himself with piling the sandwiches they had prepared on a plate, along with a bottle of water and some trail mix. He tossed Eskel one of the oranges. 

"They're not really in season but they should be fine. You peel them, it's a bit easier if you cut off the top and bottom first. Like this." He demonstrated on an orange of his own and then passed Eskel the pocket knife.

He watched Eskel quietly for a bit. A robin came to see if there was anything to be had, cockily strutting around at arm's reach before flying off again. The smell of the oranges mixed with the scent of grass and soil and sunshine and Rhys took a deep breath. 

"Is there anything you want to see? Today or later? We can walk down to the river although it might get a bit more crowded on the way. Or there's a zoo here - a menagerie? But much bigger and more like a park where the animals are not roaming free but still have a lot of space? They have some Awakened animals, too." Rhys took a bite of his pastrami sandwich.

***

Raising an eyebrow to Rhys' at the description of the zoo Eskel nodded. “I think I’d like the zoo. I’ve only seen a traveling menagerie once in Vizima, when Foltest was still king.” Smiling at the memory Eskel relaxed back, kicking his legs out and crossing them. 

Laying on his side he supported himself on an elbow while he devoured the first half of the orange. It was even more magnificent than he’d imagined from the drawings he’d seen. It was half gone before he realized it and he purposely slowed down to savor every bite that was left. Each piece exploded with juice in his mouth, so much more luscious than any other fruit he’d had.

“I went to the one in Vizima with Aldith. She was… an extremely close friend of mine? She’s passed now but she was amazin’, you’d have liked her.” Popping the last section of orange in his mouth Eskel, let it sit for a moment, wishing he had another already. “These oranges are so good.”

With a curious look to Rhys he closed his eyes and took a moment to just inhale the smells. The park smelled of life, green plants, damp earth, Rhys next to him. Not so much like the brick buildings and asphalt streets of the busier areas. Opening his eyes to look at Rhys again Eskel prepared himself mentally for whatever answer Rhys gave him. “So I’ve gotta question. I keep seein’ those same troll kids every time we come or go from your apartment. An’ they’re always lookin’ at me like ‘m some kinda… person worth lookin’ at?”

Eskel looked away over Rhys’ head up into the branches at the dappled light leaking through there. “I get people lookin’ at me an’ bein’ afraid. ‘M used to that actually, but ‘s not like that. ‘S more, respectful? I don’ know. They look at Geralt the same way. ‘S weird.” Connecting his gaze to Rhys’ again Eskel waited patiently.

***

Rhys tried and failed to keep a broad grin off his face. He had noticed the kids and had been curious whether it would bother Eskel in any way.

"They think you're _cool_." Eskel blinked in confusion and Rhys explained. "I mean, they think you're someone to admire but who is also dangerous. They think you're a shadowrunner - that's kind of like a criminal for hire who does the dirty work you don't want to do. Like breaking in and stealing something or destroying something or even killing someone."

"Shadowrunners are something like folk heroes here. Not because they do good but because they are mysterious and because people think that shadowrunners can get really rich with what they do. And that's attractive to a lot of folks. There are --songs and tales about them and what they do that people like. Some are even famous." Rhys reached out to quickly touch Eskel's hand without thinking, just with his fingertips, and pulled back when he realized it.

"It's a job, just a bit more dangerous and much more illegal than others. I used to do it for a while and so did Duncan. We both stopped when we came here. But we both have this weird job where we test peoples' security and Duncan just _looks_ like either a cop or a runner. And everyone here knows he's not a cop. So there are rumors about us." 

With a grin, Rhys waved a hand in Eskel's direction. "Then you turn up, with your eyes that everyone thinks are expensive implants, and your whole stance of someone who knows how to fight and does it a lot. Who always has an eye and ear on his surroundings because you lead a dangerous life. And that is a perfect description of a shadowrunner."

***

At the grin that appeared on Rhys’ face Eskel felt some sense of relief. He wasn’t sure why the way the kids had looked at him bothered him more than usual, but it had. A velvety laugh rolled out of Eskel, coming from deep in his chest at the idea that someone would think he was worth admiring. Fearing, definitely sometimes—but looking up to? Not so much.

“I try an’ be neutral ‘bout things, witcher’s code an’ all that. But I’d be lyin’ if I said I’d never done some of those things. No one ever looked up to me for it though. Sounds like the kind of thing Geralt would get pulled into, he never could keep his nose out of politics.” Eskel had caught the quick touch and retreat of Rhys’ hand. It made him crave. He wanted to be able to touch Rhys or let Rhys touch him, he really did. To feel Rhys’ warm dry skin on his hand.

Half smile still on his face Eskel looked down at the blanket picking at imaginary lint there. “You know I do want you to touch me, right? I don’ want you to think I don’ want that.” 

Smile fading into a flat line Eskel tried to explain. “I jus’ can’t really believe that it won’t cause problems if we’re seen.” Glancing up at Rhys, Eskel gauged his reaction, wishing he could touch him to bring him some comfort right now.

“‘S more than that, too.” Already exposing his fears, Eskel dove deep and bared a desire he’d kept hidden until now. “I’d like to be able to kiss you. Not like I do now, but to kiss your lips.” Eskel took a deep breath and huffed it out in an almost embarrassed laugh. “I told Geralt that an’ all he said was ‘well, why don’t you?’ ”

“In the beginning, our first time together, I’d already decided I wouldn’t do that with you ‘cause you were a stranger an’ to me that kind of kiss is special. Intimate? An’ Gods, you ended up being so much more. Definitely not a stranger.” Eskel laughed for real now, with no embarrassment only honesty. “But I don’ know how to change the rule I’ve made for myself that I’m not allowed to?”

***

"Geralt is right, you know." Rhys shrugged. "You just do. But I can certainly offer help." He flashed his fangs in a broad grin. 

"How about we go back to the apartment and work on that." He leaned forward a little and spoke low enough that only Eskel would hear him. "Because I really _want_ to kiss you right now and it's killing me that I can't."

Neither of them seemed to mind much that they only just got here. Rhys certainly didn't and Eskel only nodded, grabbed a sandwich from the plate to devour and helped Rhys pack up. While they walked, Rhys could watch tension drop off of Eskel. He had assumed that it came mostly from the culture shock and all the new things, and there was still some of that there, but the whole questions of being allowed to kiss Rhys or not seemed to have weighed Eskel down a lot more than Rhys would have thought.

With the apartment door closed behind them, Rhys kicked off his shoes and finally took Eskel's hand. He wanted to slam Eskel into the wall right here and kiss him but he held on to his self-control as hard as he held on to Eskel's hand while pulling him into the living room.

They ended up on the couch with Rhys straddling Eskel's lap, both hands buried in Eskel's hair. Under him, Eskel was soft and languid, allowing Rhys to explore. Rhys tipped Eskel's head back so he could kiss the hollow of his throat. 

With Eskel's hand on his hips, pulling at and slipping under his shirt, Rhys kissed a trail up Eskel's neck to behind his ear and followed the scars down to the corner of his mouth. When he got there, Rhys hesitated. Not out of uncertainty but because he wanted to savor the moment.

Eskel watched him, pupils so wide only a little of his amber iris was visible. Neither of them breathed until Rhys finally moved and kissed Eskel's lips. One short kiss, just a peck, and then a much longer one. Rhys closed his eyes and watched Eskel's aura flare up in reddish gold, tendrils winding themselves around Rhys. The medallion's hum vibrated deep in his bones.

***

It wasn’t like anything had changed and yet everything changed all at once for Eskel. The brief brush of Rhys’ lips on his, then another one lingering longer—warm and smooth— opened a floodgate of emotions for him. Desire, trust, fondness. Too many to put a name too.

Slipping the fingers of one hand behind Rhys’ neck, the thumb of his other hand still drawing loose lines across Rhys flank under his shirt, Eskel guided Rhys back to him. Tilting his head and slotting their mouths together. It was sensual and slow, Eskel delving into Rhys’ mouth to taste him. The bright burst of citrus still clung to Rhys’ tongue. 

Moving his mouth against Rhys’ brought a sharp reminder that Rhys was no more human than he was. Rhys adjusted his head and Eskel let his tongue trace over the shape of a fang, around the sides avoiding the pointed tip. When Eskel drew back to look at Rhys his eyes were cloudy and distant. Lost in his own world of auras and emotions.

Bringing his hand around from Rhys’ neck Eskel ran his fingers over Rhys’ lips. “Thank you. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” Leaning forward for one more quick kiss Eskel slipped his other hand under Rhys’ shirt to join the first. “C’mere. I know you wanna jus’ lay here an’ touch.” Pulling Rhys forward to him Eskel rolled deftly until they were laying with Rhys as his blanket, stuffing a pillow under his head.

“‘M all your’s ‘til it’s time to make dinner.” Rhys was already nosing his face into Eskel’s neck and nothing could have pleased Eskel more at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Source for the cover](https://www.pexels.com/photo/london-telephone-booth-long-exposure-lights-6618/) by NegativeSpace on pexels.com
> 
> We'd love to hear from you - leave us a comment, say hello, squee with us about things!
> 
> Will update every two weeks on Wednesdays.
> 
> [Excuse My Dust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22584424) is a little companion piece to this: Eskel and Geralt vs Inigo the Roomba!


	2. This Little Witcher Went to the Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A couple of hours later they had found a place to sit up on a wall overlooking parts of the market so they could people watch while sampling the various foods Geralt had pointed to and Duncan had bought. Spread between them were paper bowls and cups, cutlery and drinks. On the other side of the thick wall, they had a view of the canal, the willows overhanging it already green._  
>  A day of exploring London.

Equipped with sunglasses for Geralt and a backpack with some water bottles, Duncan and Geralt had braved the Underground again. This time, Geralt had been much less overwhelmed and much more curious about _everything_. 

Duncan enjoyed Geralt's enthusiasm even though he had to admit ignorance quite a lot on how things worked in detail. Things like neon lights, the many advertisement screens, how electricity made the trains run or how their commlinks sent messages and _pictures_. They made a list to look things up later when they were home again and Duncan decided not to introduce Geralt to augmented reality just yet.

Camden wasn't overly crowded but there were still enough people on the street to make Geralt move closer to Duncan. Unthinkingly, Duncan took Geralt's hand like he would take Rhys' so they wouldn't get separated. Not that either of them was hard to find even in a crowd.

He caught the last of Geralt's surprised look when he turned to him, but Geralt gripped his hand tight. 

"You okay?" When Geralt nodded, looking around with wide eyes, Duncan gave his hand a squeeze. "Alright, let's go."

A couple of hours later they had found a place to sit up on a wall overlooking parts of the market so they could people watch while sampling the various foods Geralt had pointed to and Duncan had bought. Spread between them were paper bowls and cups, cutlery and drinks. On the other side of the thick wall, they had a view of the canal, the willows overhanging it already green.

It was sunny enough that they were both down to t-shirts, hoodies stored in the backpack, the bricks pleasantly warm in the sunshine. Duncan had caught more than one person looking at them and at Geralt in particular and it had made him grin every time. He certainly couldn't blame anyone for staring at Geralt because he did look downright spectacular in leather pants and short sleeves that nicely accentuated his muscles. 

Geralt picked up a fork and a bowl of curry and speared a piece of chicken. Duncan had just popped a haloumi fry into his mouth and hadn't thought to warn Geralt that it might be spicy. Judging from Geralt's expression, it was. So he just held out a cup of mango lassi he had bought to go with the curry before Geralt could reach for the water bottle.

***

The muddy orange chicken smelled of spices Geralt couldn’t put words to, and tasted just as foreign. Within seconds it felt like fire in his mouth though. Hastily chewing and swallowing it down didn’t help either. Hot prickles still scoured his mouth, and his eyes watered up involuntarily. Coughing, Geralt took a gulp of the drink Duncan offered him, his mouth awash in cool liquid soothing the painful burn.

“Sweet Melitele, what is _in_ that?” Taking another soothing drink of the thick fruity liquid Geralt licked his lips. Setting the paper cup down between them he amended, “And what is in that too? I have never tasted a fruit like that.”

Duncan held out a haloumi fry to Geralt. “Curry? It’s usually coriander, cumin, tumeric, and chili peppers. The chilis are what make it hurt.”

The fried cheese strips were an explosion of flavor too. Duncan had chosen those and Geralt could see why. Warm and chewy, golden crispy on the outside with a drizzle of sauce.

“The lassi is mango. It’s a fruit from southeast Asia. I doubt you have it there.” Duncan was dipping his fork into the curry, getting some rice with his bite.

“How do I eat this?” Pointing at a thin shell holding meat and an assortment of vegetables and sauces, Geralt looked up at Duncan eagerly.

After he was finished with his bite, Duncan took a drink of lassi. “Pick it up in your hand and bite into it.” Duncan watched him as he clumsily made an attempt. Muffling a snicker when Geralt bit into the middle of the top, netting himself only floury shell and vegetables. “Like this.” Duncan turned it in his hand so he held it with one end up. “Now try. It’s a taco, with barbecue pork.”

This time Geralt was able to gather a bit of every flavor in his mouth. They combined together nicely and he hummed his approval. “It’s good. But not as good as the stuff that hurts me.” 

At that Duncan let out a real laugh. Geralt went back for another bite of chicken curry, but this time he was prepared for the burning in his mouth that made it feel almost numb. He took a second bite and let the burn build for a moment before relenting. The cool mango eased the ache pleasantly.

Looking out over the market Geralt was able to take it all in peacefully from their perch on the warm bricks. The weather was perfect, and he was already getting used to his new less armored clothes. He had Duncan to protect him if he really needed it. It was sort of freeing to be able to walk around without the weight of his armor, to let someone else worry about the ‘what if’s’ for a while.

A few times he had turned his head back to look at something that caught his eye, only to see that him and Duncan had caught someone else’s eye—and not in a bad way. It made Geralt smirk. It felt good. To see that here people didn’t think he was a freak but that he was interesting. That even though it had bewildered him at first when Duncan grabbed his hand, no one seemed to care or take notice. The few who did notice, Geralt saw immediately, noticed in an appreciative way.

Down below people scurried this way and that, in search of their own lunch, or some unique purchase from the shops. There were plenty of humans and orks, a few elves, and a troll every now and again woven into the masses. Geralt studied them all. The variety of colors—hair ran the gamut from natural to neon— shapes and sizes. Trolls didn’t seem to be as common as orks or humans, and that piqued Geralt’s curiosity. Even the trolls on the Continent had always interested him.

Slowly working to finish the hoard of food between them, Geralt asked Duncan about it. “Tell me about the trolls here, they don’t seem as common as orks. They’re huge, and people give them a wide berth when they walk through a crowd.” Nodding his head down to the mass of people Geralt pointed one out, sure enough the people were making way for him. “Seems like they are a bit feared.”

***

"Mmh." Duncan was busy devouring a taco and had to swallow before he could answer. "A lot of it is their size. A punch from a troll can easily kill a human and when a troll shoves you, you stay shoved. My brother is a troll and let me tell you, it made roughhousing with him as kids --a challenge."

"Back when people goblinised into orks and trolls, it was an enormous shock to all the humans. My parents never really talked about it but I've heard enough since. With trolls, the process is even more horrible than with orks, just from their sheer size. Some - many of them were left with some sort of trauma. And the world isn't kind to people with trauma who can't hide it well." He could hear the growl in his own voice and took a deep breath.

"They are rare, so not all that many people have much experience with them. But there's also the stereotype that all trolls are dumb and maybe mean. People say the same thing about orks, too - that we're not smart and only useful as muscle." He shrugged, but the anger at this hadn't cooled over the years and probably never would. "So people are afraid. Elves get all the good publicity - people _like_ them. They are tall and slender and graceful, not to mention maybe immortal or at least long-lived as fuck. Humans want to be them."

Duncan rolled his eyes and took a sip of bubble tea, offering it to Geralt. "Be careful, there are little chewy globes in there. So yeah, elves can't help it that the humans think all this bullshit about them, but that's how it is. Humans _don't_ want to be orks or trolls or even dwarves, at least most of them. We're the underdogs. If you look at the slums, you'll find a shitton of orks and trolls. A lot of us don't live all that long because we get such a shitty start in life. But I wouldn't want to be anything else."

***

Geralt could tell he’d hit a nerve and he hadn’t meant to. He was honestly just curious. Taking the bubble tea from Duncan, Geralt took hold of the impulse to be brave and let his fingers rest over Duncan’s. Staring Duncan straight in the face Geralt let them linger, watching the anger drain out of him at the soft touch.

“It’s the same for us, you know. No one really knows how long a witcher can live because ‘a witcher never dies in his bed’. We’re meant to work the Path until we die working the Path. I don’t believe in that shit though, I retired.” Geralt smiled raising his eyebrows slightly as he took a drink of the tea. A few pearls came with it and he chewed them, enjoying the new texture. 

“I also don’t think the trolls we have at home are dumb, either. They don’t speak well, but they think fine. You can reason with them, which is more than I can say for a lot of humans.” Geralt waved his hands as he talked, punctuating what he said about humans by pointing the tea at Duncan for a second.

Inhaling a few more haloumi fries Geralt wondered at a few of the things Duncan had mentioned during his rant. On the one hand he didn’t want to work Duncan back up, but on the other he was genuinely still _curious_ and Duncan was usually rather patient with his intense curiosity.

“You said people ‘goblinized into orks and trolls’ and that humans don’t want to be orks, trolls, or dwarves, but do want to be elves. What does that mean? It makes it sound like humans just _turn into_ these other races sometimes.” Picking up a cup of frozen cream, slightly off-white with a tinge of green Geralt gave it a sniff, it had a pleasant nutty smell. The stall had advertised it as gelato and it was slowly turning into a liquid in the sun. Sinking the tiny wooden spoon into it Geralt took a bite. 

“That’s exactly what happens.” Loading the little spoon again, Geralt glanced up at Duncan. Duncan was taking a swig from one of the water bottles before he continued, “When magic first showed back up, it happened in mass. Imagine a _lot_ of people suddenly going through the Trials, all at once, for no apparent reason, and no one knows what is going on. It would have been like that.”

Geralt set the gelato down, the cold relieved some of the leftover fiery burn in his mouth, but the incredible sweetness was overpowering. Like eating too much honey. It was the kind of thing Eskel would love and he made a mental note to mention it to him.

Mulling over what Duncan had said about mass turnings in his head Geralt could see how that would leave mental scars on a lot of people, the kind that would pass down for generations. Beyond those who’d actually witnessed the event. They hadn’t held Trials in decades and the stories of witchers stealing children, and the tortuous methods they used to make them into witchers still ran rampant.

“Now some are born that way, some still change as kids though.” Duncan shrugged and took a sip of bubble tea. “Rhys changed.”

“I wonder why trolls are less common. What decided these things. Fate?” Geralt smiled almost shyly. “Not that it matters, I am content with the orks I have. For the record, I know you’re intelligent but I still love your muscles too.” Unable to help himself Geralt winked at Duncan.

Letting one leg hang over the wall Geralt swung it happily. “What else is there to do? See?” He was having so much fun he would have followed Duncan almost anywhere at the moment. Thrilled to just be pulled along by the hand and follow the flow of people with Duncan as his guide.

***

"Let's go for a walk. There's a big park over there," Duncan waved across the canal, "and if we cross it, we're going towards the inner city again. Plenty of stuff to see along the way."

And there was. Plenty of people of all sizes, shapes and races. All kinds of shops, some familiar to Geralt, some required explanations. Like the big music store with a piano in the window, a fitness studio or the the shop selling augmented reality tattoos and clothing addons. Duncan promised Geralt to show him what augmented reality looked like later. His voice was starting to get hoarse from all the explaining and talking but he enjoyed doing it.

They saw a pair of mounted police but also a heavy duty armored vehicle on another corner with equally heavily armored security personnel. They carried submachine guns, their faces covered by the visors of their helmets. Several drones buzzed overheard, providing surveillance and air support.

Duncan tugged Geralt along. "Let's not hang around. It's probably just a transport but I don't want to be there if something goes to shit."

Geralt had moved closer, picking up on Duncan's tension. "Can we go to that bookstore there?"

Nodding, Duncan cast a last glance towards the security guards holding up traffic before crossing the street, weaving between the cars.

"I never was much of a reader but I've been doing some catching up." Duncan pushed the door open and stepped inside.

***

From the unassuming storefront Geralt had never expected to see so many books inside. Especially since he hadn’t seen that much in the way of real books here outside of the ones stacked in the orks' apartment. Everyone here seemed to get their information from either a comm or what Duncan called a trid.

Inside, every wall was lined with shelves, and every shelf was filled with books. Floor to ceiling. Tables in the center held more stacks of books. The shop was long and narrow with a set of gorgeous wood stairs leading up to the next floor and even more books. Wooden bars held maps, diagrams, and detailed profile drawings of various Awakened critters.

Stepping through the doors Geralt was mystified. Without thinking at all he grabbed Duncan’s hand and took the lead, dragging him down the side of the store for a better look, in awe of all it held. 

Running his fingers over the spines of the books Geralt frowned. The big bold letters stamped into the spines and written on the glossy covers made no sense. Raising on his toes he whispered in Duncan’s ear. “I can’t read these.”

The spell that Rhys had cast on him which translated all of the words he spoke from Common into English and any English being spoken around him that he didn’t know into Common didn’t apply to text. 

Duncan squeezed his hand. “We’ll work on that. Tell me what kind of books you like. I’ll help you find them.” Now it was Duncan who was urging Geralt along, down the row of books. “I’ll even read them to you if you want.”

The thought of that, using Duncan’s chest as a pillow while his sonorous voice hummed through Geralt’s body, was enticing in an altogether different way from how Geralt usually felt enticed by Duncan. It sounded peaceful. “I’m going to hold you to that.” Geralt smiled at Duncan, just a tiny thing barely curving his lips. “I like almost everything, but what I’d really like is a good monster story. And maybe a book on real monsters here.”

In the end, Geralt ended up with _The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde_ and _Paranormal Animals of Europe_. Both of which he was supremely interested in hearing Duncan read to him. When they stepped out of the bookstore the armored transport was gone. The street eerily back to normal as if it were never there.

***

Duncan breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't really expected anything bad to happen but he still couldn't shake the tension whenever he ran across corp security. They had made him uncomfortable back when he was a cop, they had been bad news as a runner and by now, it was habit.

Tapping on his commlink, he sent Rhys a quick message announcing that they would be out until after dark, in case he wanted to eat dinner earlier than that with Eskel. He was tired after a day or walking and talking, especially talking, but he still wanted to show Geralt Piccadilly Circus at dusk. Maybe it was a touristy thing to do, but Duncan didn't care. He had a weak spot for it, for the energy of the place, and he thought Geralt would like it, too.

"Listen, if you ever get into trouble with people like the guards that were here before, you do as they say. Tell them as little as possible but don't try to run or to fight. Those weapons they carry can tear you apart and they don't need to be close to do it. The clothes you wear will keep you safe if someone tries to stab you or something, but not if someone fires a gun at you, especially not like the ones they had." Without really noticing, Duncan held Geralt's hand tighter, suppressing a shudder at the thought of Geralt falling in the hands of either the police or some corporation. They had gotten the witchers high quality fake SINs that would hold up under a lot of scrutiny. But once anyone figured out just how unusual they really were, that wouldn't be worth anything at all.

***

Picking up on Duncan’s fear immediately Geralt gave his hand a squeeze back. “I promise not to do anything stupid that will get me taken away from you.” As far as he was able, Geralt meant it. He would try his hardest not to stand out, or start trouble with anyone here. All he wanted was to spend time with orks, learn about this place that shaped them, and enjoy their affection.

Duncan led Geralt down a street that seemed to go on and on with shops. Both sides of the busy road were lined with everything from specialty shops selling high end electronics, to fashion. One shop they passed had a display in the window of what Geralt thought must be wigs. The various hairstyles shimmered in colors, changing from one to the next in a dizzying array of colors. Geralt’s eyes picked up the slightest change, on one of the wigs each hair was able to hold a separate color. Each one barely a shade different from the last in a wave of color from fiery orange to a pale yellow.

Without meaning to Geralt had stopped to stare into the display. No wonder people didn’t mind his hair. Duncan’s hand stretched out from his, and after a second Duncan returned to him grinning widely.

“Hair implants. Some of them even change color with the users' mood.” Duncan looked at the display with him for a moment before urging Geralt along again. “There’s something I want to show you. Not too much further.”

Walking with Duncan was nice, a big hand around his own. Someone who knew what they were doing and where they were going to guide him. Geralt followed along to the end of the long street past more stores full of things, some he could identify and some he couldn’t, but after a long day of asking about everything he was finally out of questions.

The streets were getting busier with more and more cars zipping past. Geralt’s eyes adjusted to the dimming light, not quite as bright as day even with the artificial lights all around, blinking to life.

Rounding the building a busy road came into view, cutting off the path of the street they were on. A huge intersection of several roads all at once, in a maze of traffic, all seeming to know what to do, though Geralt had no idea how they didn’t slam into one another.

“Piccadilly Circus.” Duncan announced proudly. Geralt huddled closer to Duncan watching the cars everywhere, the huge screens above clinging to the sides of the buildings flashing their brightly colored attractive ads. Duncan moved forward and by instinct Geralt stayed close, trusting that Duncan wouldn’t let them get hit.

On the other side Duncan directed him to a fountain, old and weathered, but beautiful. A man leaning with a bow. Sitting down Geralt let his eyes take it all in, the zooming lights on the cars, the blinking scrolling screens, the traffic like a snake on fisstech. 

Then Geralt laughed. “This is insane.” Rubbing his fingers over Duncan’s knuckles Geralt grinned so wide his cheeks hurt. “I love it.”

When Duncan let go of his hand and put his arm around Geralt hugging him close Geralt almost panicked. But no one paid them any mind and Duncan was happy. Settling into Duncan’s side Geralt softened, relaxing into the embrace. “This is alright?” All he could think was, _please say yes_. Duncan showing everyone around them that he belonged to Duncan—that he was taken—was suddenly all he wanted.

***

Duncan nosed into Geralt's neck, speaking directly into his ear. "No one cares. They're all too busy with themselves. And it's just normal here." He grinned and pointed upwards. "Plus, this is the god of requited love. Rhys taught me, he knows shit like that."

He was bone tired and ready to go home, have dinner and then sleep for ten hours. But right now, it was nice to watch the throng of people and traffic, the lights brightening while dusk fell, and just have Geralt leaning into his hug. Scooting backwards a little on the step, Duncan pulled one leg up and around until Geralt was sitting in front of him. Putting both arms around him, Duncan hugged him to his chest. "I'm glad you came here."

***

A warm fuzzy feeling bloomed inside Geralt. Duncan was laying claim on him in public and Geralt felt giddy. Sneaking his hand up between them Geralt rested it against the side of Duncan’s neck and allowed himself to be drawn in. The steady thrum of Duncan’s pulse beat under his fingers, solid and strong. 

Closing his eyes Geralt concentrated on that. On the way Duncan made him feel safe and happy. “Me too.” In his mind Geralt ran through the things he wanted to look up, the things he wanted to do with Duncan, but eventually they fell away to the thrum of Duncan’s heartbeat under his hand, and the warmth of Duncan’s arms around him. The lightheartedness of being wanted.  
<

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Notes:  
> tooth rotting fluff


	3. Breakfast With a Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Duncan looked up to give Eskel an encouraging smile. He knew perfectly well how nerve wracking is was to meet Artrí for the first time. Even when the spirit was only delicately eating eggs and sausage from a plate, seated at the table like everyone else, sitting on its butt with one paw placed next to its plate._   
> 

Medallion vibrating solidly against his chest, Eskel tried to ignore it as he forked the sweet scrambled eggs to his mouth. They wobbled perilously and he hurriedly stuffed them in his mouth. The maple syrup he’d drenched them in sent sparks of pleasure to his brain, perfectly sweet. 

He’d tucked his medallion inside his shirt, finally having conceded and changed into a well fitted button up from among the things Rhys had bought. It was steel gray and he’d rolled the sleeves up well past his elbows to enjoy the morning sun up on the roof in the orks' garden.

Having it against his skin did nothing to mellow its vibration though. The hulking form of a bear seated on his haunches amongst the crates and raised beds kept it reverberating. A strong reminder of all the magic around him if the faint smell of ozone wasn’t hint enough. 

With Geralt on one side and Rhys on the other, Duncan sat across from him at the upturned crate they were using as a makeshift table. The bear, big as any Skellige bear Eskel had ever taken on, munched contentedly on a sausage from the plate Rhys had made up and offered him.

Eskel couldn’t help but wonder what the magnificent creature thought of him. Rhys had a bond, some strong relationship with this creature, and Eskel felt that he could easily be judged him. Hopefully Artrí, as he’d been introduced, deemed him worthy of Rhys’ affections.

***

Tearing off a bite of toast Geralt watched Artrí calmly. The big bear was intelligent, and magical. Geralt offered him a polite smile, no teeth, and bowed his head a little. He liked that Rhys had such a powerful ally. 

Artrí chuffed air back at Geralt and Geralt laughed, forking a sundried tomato into his mouth. It was chewy and slick with oil. “You seem like a good guy.”

Eskel’s foot connected with the side of Geralt’s leg next to the table and Geralt looked up to see amber eyes boring into his. “Behave, please.”

“I am behaving. I’m being nice. You should try it.” Geralt’s hand reached out to touch Eskel’s but it darted away before he could make contact.

Geralt noticed that Eskel did give the bear a look then, a soft nod, and a passable smile. As nervous as Eskel was, Geralt knew he really just wanted the bear's approval.

***

Duncan looked up to give Eskel an encouraging smile. He knew perfectly well how nerve wracking it was to meet Artrí for the first time. Even when the spirit was only delicately eating eggs and sausage from a plate, seated at the table like everyone else, sitting on its butt with one paw placed next to its plate. 

Artrí blinked slowly at Eskel's smile. It was very hard to read him - he was much like a real bear in every sense and that included a distinct lack of body language and facial expressions. But Duncan thought that Artrí liked the witchers. He tended to like Rhys' friends in general.

With a loud snuffle, Artri got up and stretched his head forward in Geralt's direction. Or rather, in the direction of Geralt's last sausage. Geralt realized quickly what the bear wanted and held out the sausage on his palm. 

Using fangs that could have taken Geralt's hand clean off, Artrí picked up the offering and gave a lick to Geralt's palm. He then swiveled around and got right into Eskel's face, staring at him from not a hand's breadth away.

"Artrí, stop messing with him." Rhys' voice was gentle and he reached out to pet the bear's ear. It got a low, deep noise from the bear, but it didn't turn its head. Duncan had stopped eating, putting his fork down slowly. He was pretty sure that Artrí _was_ just messing with Eskel. But not completely.

After another second, the bear pushed its massive snout against Eskel's chest, nudging him and giving a friendly huff. It sat down and looked around as if nothing had happened.

***

Eskel could sense the barely controlled power behind Artrí when the bear nudged into his chest, rocking him slightly backwards. When Eskel exhaled his long held breath he looked down only to see the damp imprint of the bear’s nose on his shirt, and laughed out loud, a gentle rolling rumble of mirth. 

“I c’n understand wantin’ a smell.” Tapping the side of his nose Eskel smiled at Artrí, a real full smile this time. “My nose is pretty good too, in fact I can smell your magic.” Picking up a sticky sausage dripping with syrup off his plate Eskel held it out. “Here. You forgive me for bein’ uptight an’ I’ll pretend you didn’ leave a noseprint on my shirt, deal? An’ you get a sasuage an’ a sniff.”

One ear had swiveled away but one stayed directed at Eskel while he spoke and then Artrí stretched his neck forward taking the sausage from Eskel’s hand. Licking Eskel’s hand clean, Artrí proceeded to snuffle at Eskel’s upturned wrist from a long moment before bumping Eskel’s hand with his snout. 

Taking that as agreement to his proffered deal, Eskel leaned back and relaxed. If Rhys’ bear friend had wanted to bite him, he surely would have by now. Even Duncan had relaxed and gone back to eating.

Breakfast went on and Eskel let himself get a little lost in their plans for the day. He and Rhys were going to go to the zoo, then meet up with Duncan and Geralt for a sweet treat lunch in a queer neighborhood. The idea was both familiar and foreign to him. It was something he and Rhys had talked about back on the Continent and he remembered being interested in taking Geralt there. The thought of being able to hold Geralt’s hand publicly was mind boggling and yet he felt like it was something Geralt would cherish.

Last night laying in bed Geralt had told him of his day with Duncan and admitted that they’d held hands all day, and even hugged in a public square. Eskel was shocked and relieved all at once. Rhys kept saying it was alright, but he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. Now he felt a bit like an ass for not letting Rhys have his own hand, after hearing how Geralt had been brave enough to try, and nothing bad had happened.

Maybe at the zoo he would get up the courage. Artrí shuffling around and leaving the table brought Eskel back from his thoughts.

***

Rhys had watched the witchers with Artrí over breakfast, in the mundane world and with astral sight. Eskel had been on the verge of bowing out of the whole thing but had agreed once Rhys had explained that it was entirely his choice. He still had been nervous, much more than Geralt. 

There were already the first tendrils reaching for each other from their auras, adding to the intricate web of emotions and connections that spanned the space between orks, witchers and the spirit. 

Artrí's deep rumble lay under the landscape Rhys thought of as theirs, all four of them together. The hum of the witchers' medallions, wet stone and the taste of iron, a tang of salt like a breeze from the sea and the scent of moss and tree sap.

He blinked back into normal sight when Artrí made his way around the table. With a deep breath, the bear shoved his head under Geralt's arm, like a cat that wants to be petted. Only with a quarter of a ton more weight behind it. He wasn't rough, Artrí knew very well how fragile humans were, not to mention tables and dishes. But he made his wish very clear.

Geralt buried both hands in Artrí's fur and petted him behind the ears, with a delighted grin at being allowed to do this. It took all of a minute for Artrí to end up stretched out on his back and Geralt kneeling next to him, scratching the soft, light brown fur on his belly. Artrí had both eyes closed in bliss, huge paws curled up in the air like a massively oversized dog.

Duncan used the chance to claim the last of the tomatoes and toast. He had already paid his tribute when Artrí arrived, almost getting bowled over by the enthusiastic bear. Rhys placed a kiss to Eskel's neck, under his ear. "Come, I think Geralt needs help. One person just isn't enough to give belly rubs to a bear."

***

For a moment panic wanted to well up inside Eskel that Rhys had kissed him up here, in the open air, but just as quick he chided himself that Rhys felt this roof was part of his _home_. It was fine. So what if a drone buzzed by and saw it, or the troll one roof over. These were all things Rhys was more than comfortable with and he should be too. Eskel let the panic roll off of him and turned smile at Rhys. Genuinely, because it felt right when Rhys did things like that to him.

Gathering up every bit of bravado, Eskel reached out and hooked his fingers around two of Rhys’ drawing him over to Artrí. Geralt was going full bore with a smile on his face digging his hands into the thick fur on the bear’s belly. It occurred to Eskel that animals don’t expose their abdomen easily because it’s such a vulnerable area, and he logically concluded that this must mean they’d gained Artrí’s trust in a significant way.

Dropping to his knees with Rhys they joined in. Artrí’s fur was as deep as Eskel’s fingers, and each ruffle and scratch threw up the faint smell of ozone, overlaid with notes of fresh grass and a touch of clover. Out of the blue, Eskel wondered what Artrí’s favorite food was. Honey? Salmon? Sausage covered in syrup?

Eskel explored up Artrí’s arm nearest him, then sunk his fingers into the dense fur around his paw and in between Artrí’s toes massaging there. Artrí lifted his head to stare at Eskel huffing loudly, then suddenly thumped his head back onto the roof, relaxed again.

“I think he likes that.” Geralt laughed, following Eskel’s lead with the other paw.

When they were done and Artrí had wandered off, dissolving into nothingness, Eskel could smell the ozone and bear fur all around him. He went back inside to wash his hands. Geralt had offered to help Duncan bring the dishes downstairs and Rhys was packing a bag for their morning at the zoo. They wanted to get an early start, hopefully that way they could avoid the worst of the crowds for Eskel’s sake.

***

Arriving at the zoo right at opening time, they were almost alone despite the warm weather. Rhys pointed to their right once they were inside. "That way, let's go see the gorillas first, it'll be so busy later."

Duncan he would have pulled along with him - well, tried at least, but with Eskel he reminded himself not to. Still, Rhys was excited to be here. He loved the zoo, visited often and he was looking forward to sharing this with Eskel. 

At the gorilla enclosure, a couple of them were outside, browsing the ground for fruit and vegetables the zookeepers has scattered and hidden there among the grass and around the climbing trees. Only a thick glass panel separated them from Rhys and Eskel at the viewing area.

"They're very closely related to humans. Obviously." Rhys hunkered down in front of the glass, turned slightly sideways. "Gorillas don't like it that much when you look them in the eyes directly. It annoys them. But they're very calm animals. Shy, really."

A few of the animals were looking in their direction. Quick glances from under their eyelashes, while busily picking grass and collecting grapes or pieces of leek. Eventually, a big female wandered over to them, slowly at first and then speeding up until she sat down right in front of them.

"That's Alika. She's old for a gorilla, in her fifties." Rhys gave a little wave at her and she watched with interest. "She likes me because I can do this." Showing her his open palms, Rhys then cupped his hands together and opened them, revealing the tiny bear between them. It snuffled between his fingers and wandered around on his palm. 

Alika leaned forward and brought her face close to the glass bending down as Rhys placed the bear on the ground. She watched it in fascination, even forgetting about the raisins she had collected in one hand.

The little bear wandered through the glass over to her and she very carefully placed her free hand over it, cupped like Rhys has held his. When she took it away after a second, the bear was gone. After sniffing at her palm, Alika held her hand out to the glass, palm up, fingers curled. 

"She wants to see it again." Rhys grinned at Eskel, pleased with himself, and conjured another Watcher spirit. But this time, he watched Eskel watch the gorilla watch the bear.

***

Eskel was enthralled with the majestic creature. Already dropped into a squat next to Rhys, he watched Alika’s fascinated eyes as the baby bear padded right through the thick glass, only to disappear in her huge wrinkled hands again. Eskel wondered what she thought. Did she understand that it was magic or not. When Eskel looked up Rhys was watching him with his own fascination plain on his face.

It wasn’t long before the viewing area at the gorilla exhibit started to fill up and Rhys motioned for Eskel to follow him out. On the way to the reptile house Eskel couldn’t help but find himself interested in Rhys as much as the animals everywhere. Seeing him show such a passion for the sweet old gorilla and entertain her with his magic turned Eskel on. He liked this side of Rhys—showing his knowledge freely and being gentle.

Inside the reptile house was damp and dark but they were both able to see easily in the dim light. Even with his earbuds in Eskel caught sounds he thought he shouldn’t be able to hear. The mating call of a bird and the yap of a dog echoed around the otherwise silent imitation of a cave.

“Think my ears aren’t workin’ right.” Tapping his ear to indicate to Rhys that he really meant the earbuds, Eskel caught his attention. 

Stepping over to the side of the cave Rhys pointed to a yellow backlit glass, from small holes in the wall next to it the sound of the bird came crisp and clear. “Yellow Rumped Warbler’s song.” Rhys leaned sideways against the wall of the cave, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and smiled at Eskel. “This is the Mimic Snake. It’s an Awakened cousin to a boa constrictor. If you haven’t encountered one of those they ambush their prey and then squeeze it to death.”

Getting closer, Eskel peered through the large glass at the snake beyond. It was coiled and layered over itself in piles but on top of it all sat its head, mouth open.

“The Mimic Snake has the unique ability to imitate the sounds of many other creatures. This helps it lure its prey easier. There are even stories of anomalously large Mimic Snakes in South America that can imitate human voices, luring people to their death. Those are most likely folk legends though, this is their average size. They eat mostly rodents and birds, the occasional small mammal.”

“An’ the dog barking?” Eskel’s interest was really rising now, and he wouldn’t discount any folk legends outright. He’d seen enough have basis in truth. Rhys moved down pointing out a few other reptiles until they were at the other end.

The barking was louder here, again coming from the wall next to a glass. “The Dog Asp, similar to the Mimic Snake, can imitate sounds. Only the bark of a dog though, which it uses to warn off predators, and also through some magical influence--attract prey. It is also extremely venomous. It is the Awakened kin of the European Asp, one of the very few venomous animals we have here."

Eskel laughed under his breath. “Must be nice, not to be overrun with venomous things.”

“Australia. Australia could give you a run for your credits on deadly things.” Rhys winked at him. “We’ll go there next, but first I want to show you the Komodo. He’s massive and glorious. Also nasty teeth.” Crossing the cave to the other side Rhys approached a huge glass wall and Eskel followed him.

Inside was a hulking beast, thick tail slowly swishing from side to side as it paced the length of the enclosure. Its whole body twisted a bit, spine bending with each step, tail keeping the massive beast centered. Stopping in front of them it opened its mouth and stared them down.

“I don’ see any big teeth.” Hmphing to himself, Eskel shot Rhys a side glance.

A young man approached and stood on the other side of Rhys, kneeling down to take a photo with his comm. 

“Their teeth don’t have to be big, they will still rip you to shreds and swallow the pieces whole.” Rhys smiled, showing his own sharp teeth.

“Is it true that they are venomous?” The man who’d been crouched down on the floor stood up and directed his attention at Rhys.

Smiling, Rhys answered the man politely. “Yes, they do have venom glands, but they eat a lot of carrion too. It’s also just as likely that they kill their prey by sheer force as well.”

An all consuming need to let this man know that Rhys was his sparked below the surface in Eskel. It wasn’t that Rhys was answering the question, teaching was a thing Rhys enjoyed and Eskel had no desire to change that; or even that the man had asked, Eskel knew there was no real reason why he shouldn’t have. It was simply that if he was going to ask and be taught he should know that Rhys was _taken_.

“But what about the stories of komodos biting prey and then tracking it for miles?” The stranger persisted. 

Unable to stand it anymore and rationally sure from Geralt that he wouldn’t be stabbed for it, Eskel stepped right up next to Rhys and silently rested his first two fingers in Rhys’ hand loose at his side. Heart thundering in his chest Eskel let out a soft breath. No one said a word, it was fine. He’d heard the pause in Rhys’ breath when he’d touched his hand and he knew Rhys was thinking it over _hard_ , why Eskel had finally given in and allowed him this thing he craved.

Not wanting Rhys to think he felt uncomfortable Eskel chimed in. “Yeah, what ‘bout that?”

Rhys bit his lip for a second and then answered with a broad smile, infectiously lighting up the room. “They probably failed to kill it and then found the carrion later. Komodos have a great sense of smell.” With a polite nod Rhys excused them and led Eskel to the exit.

***

Outside, Rhys half expected Eskel to let go of his hand again. There weren't many people around, but it was different doing this in the dim reptile house or here, out in the open. But Eskel held on.

Rhys gave Eskel's fingers a squeeze and pointed them in the direction of the Australian exhibit. They were almost alone there again, looking out over the grassy space where emus and some wallabies were grazing. 

Eskel laughed out loud. "What kind of rabbit are _those_?"

The wallaby nearest to them look up and twitched its nose at them, a blade of grass disappearing rapidly in its mouth. Rhys leaned on the railing, shoulder comfortably touching Eskel's. 

"It's called a wallaby. There are even bigger ones, almost as tall as you are when they stand up straight and they're called kangaroos. They all jump and they all have a pouch to carry their babies in. Look, there's one poking its head out of the pouch." Rhys pointed.

Eventually, Eskel had run out of questions and they stood for a moment in silence, watching the animals and listening to the raucous calls of macaws drifting over from another part of the zoo.

"You got possessive when that guy talked to me, didn't you?" Rhys smiled at Eskel, leaning into him. "I know you don't mind me talking to people and I certainly don't mind you showing everyone we're together like this." He tightened his hold of Eskel's fingers and reminded himself _not_ to kiss Eskel right now. Small steps.

***

Torn for a moment between the pleasant tingle of his hand from touching Rhys and the desire to bury his face in his arms for a moment, Eskel looked out over the wallabies. Waited a minute before he tried to put it into words. 

Finally, Eskel turned to Rhys with a chagrined smirk on his face. “Yes.” Eskel’s smirk dropped, eyes turning serious. “I’ll try an’ stop if you want me to. But ‘m not gonna lie it’d be hard an’ I don’ think you mind. I know I don’ own you, an’ I’d never want to.”

“‘M possessive of people an’ things I love, that ‘m proud to be with. ‘M not gonna tell you to change, or do, or not to do anythin’. Tha’s not how you keep hold of what really matters to you. To do that, you have to let what you love be free, to fly when it wants, an’ come back when it needs.” Eskel smiled softly, the scarred corner of his mouth turning up the slightest bit.

“So, yes. I felt possessive when he talked to you. You were doing somethin’ you’re _good_ at: teaching. I was really proud of you in that moment an’ I couldn’t help but want him to know you were _mine_. My partner, who’s really smart, an’ was answerin’ his questions. That’s all.” Geralt never called him on his shit like this, but Eskel knew himself, he was able to parse out why he did and felt the way he did. He just didn’t usually say it out loud.

Pulling his hand up to set it on the rail, two fingers still hooked in Rhys’, Eskel turned it palm up opening his fingers a little, a small invitation to Rhys. “Normally, all that happens in private though. Letting strangers know how I feel an’ who I care about is… entirely new.” Eskel swallowed to wet his throat. “I like it. It also terrifies me. I want to be able to do that though, feel a little possessive an’ show it, if you’ll let me.”

***

Rhys leaned into Eskel and followed the invitation to place his whole hand in Eskel's, holding it tight. "I _want_ you to. I know you don't expect me to ask for your permission to do things or talk to anyone, that is not what this is about. And I'm glad you decided you can do this here, out in the open. For everyone to see. Because I want people to see and know."

He gave a tug on Eskel's hand. "Ready to see some unicorns?"

They wandered along the path, Rhys' hand still resting in Eskel's, and Rhys kept up a running commentary on the animals they saw along the way. A bleating from somewhere ahead made Eskel look up.

"They have goats here? Can we go see? Or are they jus' food for the, what do they have here, lions an' such?" 

"The goats are for petting. They have some cows, pigs, chickens and donkeys, too. Most people rarely see those unless they come here or go to another zoo. Not everyone grew up on a farm or can afford to visit one." Rhys changed course for the goats.

This early, the goats were all still hungry and came to the fence of their enclosure, propping themselves up on their front feet, jostling for a place. There were small pygmy goats and much bigger Nubian goats with long, dangling ears. A few chickens scratched for food in the dust between them. 

Rhys pointed to a vending machine. "Do you want to feed them? You can go into the enclosure but you are going to get mobbed by them if you carry food."

***

Letting go of Rhys’ hand Eskel went to the vending machine without a second thought. Studying it for some clue as to how to make it give him food for the goats. Rhys came up behind him with a quiet laugh. “Use your credits. On your commlink.”

It registered a second after Rhys said it and Eskel took his comm out, still not entirely sure what he was doing. Instantly Eskel missed the weight of solid coin. It was alright though, because Rhys guided him through it patiently. Showed him how to transfer the credits until Eskel had two handfuls of pellets and Rhys was slipping the comm back into his pocket with a not at all well concealed smile.

After the first gate swung shut behind him Eskel pressed his hip into the second and the spring gave way letting him into the pen. Immediately he was surrounded by a semicircle of insistent eyes. Heads pushing rather politely into his hip and the bottom of his thigh.

“Ladies, ladies, calm down now. You’ll all get some.” Beaming Eskel made his way back over to the fence where Rhys was leaning on it.

In his hands Rhys cupped more pellets. “I got you more for when you run out. You’re going to need it.” He was grinning widely, tusks and fangs both on display, and if they weren’t out in public Eskel would have leaned over the fence to give him a kiss right then.

Instead he whispered, “Thanks,” and turned to squat down in front of the fence. The bigger Nubians jostled for the best position, butting their heads into each others' flanks and knocking others out of the way. The pygmy goats wove in between the Nubian's legs and stood right at Eskel’s hands bleating pleadingly. “Ladies!” Eskel admonished the large nannies. “Be nice to each other. There’s lots.”

Eskel spread one handful out on the ground for the smaller goats and then split the other between his hands choosing two of the best behaved girls to feed first. When it was gone he turned to Rhys for a refill. This continued until every goat had been fed.

He ended up with his ass rested against the fence, feet crossed in front of him, a pygmy goat's front hooves perched on his thighs while he scratched its neck. “They’re so small. I love it. An’ the others, with their floppy ass long ears.” A large goat rubbed its head affectionately at his hip. “This is perfect. I think this’s my favorite part of the zoo. I mean, I own a few goats, but these are all different kinds. I could jus’ come here an’ eat lunch an’ pet goats for an hour. Prolly boring for you.” Eskel laughed out loud at the thought of dragging Rhys along for that. “But I’d _love_ it.”

Looking over his shoulder Eskel must have been grinning for too long because he could feel his face getting tired. The muscles around his eyes and in his cheeks taking on a slight burn. “Thank you.”

***

Rhys reached over the fence and grazed Eskel's neck with his fingertips before petting the large goat behind the ears. "I'd gladly take you goat petting. Actually, there's a zoo a couple of hours from here that has even more breeds. We can go sometime. They only have farm animals, old breeds that have gotten rare. I haven't been there yet, I'd be interested to see that."

They continued on to go see all the other animals - unicorns, anteaters, tigers, warthogs and so much more. The penguins made Eskel laugh so hard he had to sit down, especially after Rhys told him they were birds. But in the end, the goats remained Eskel's favorite animal in the whole zoo. They made plans for a zoo lunch later in the week before setting out to walk to the café where they would meet Duncan and Geralt.  
  


***

  
  
After Eskel and Rhys had left, Duncan had watered the garden with Geralt's help. Downstairs, they had put away the dishes and cleaned up. They had no plans for the morning - after walking all over London for the whole day yesterday, they were both content to stay inside and do nothing much until later.

Duncan dried his hands on a towel and turned to Geralt. He hadn't gotten used to seeing him like this, in modern clothing, right there in Duncan's home. But he appreciated the sight and the fact that they could make this happen, very much.

Still, he frowned at Geralt, putting the towel aside to lean on the kitchen counter. "Tell me, is there a particular reason why you are wearing clothes right now?"

The frown was accompanied by Duncan's best menacing growl, the one that made street gangers back away from him and decide they had somewhere else to be.

***

 _I thought you liked these clo-oh.-_ Geralt’s train of thought wasn’t derailed by Duncan’s growl. It abruptly changed tracks. _-Oooh. Oh._ Quickly catching up to the situation Geralt looked down at his feet. He could already hear his heartbeat loud in his ears, speeding up in response to Duncan’s feral growl.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I should have asked if you wanted me dressed or not.” Fingers toying with the hem of his shirt Geralt peered at Duncan from under the fringe of his eyelashes, then lifted the heather gray shirt over his head. Draping it over his arm, Geralt went to work on his leather pants. 

They tied up the side but that was mostly to make sure they hugged his thighs right. Really it was as simple as a button and one of those satisfying pull tag and teeth combinations. Duncan told him it was a zipper and Geralt was already fond of the noise it made. But now, with Duncan watching him, still frowning and not making a sound to let him know he was doing good it was loud and metallic in his ears.

Working his pants and boxers down his hips at the same time Geralt stepped out of them and laid them over his arm as well before going down slowly on his knees. The kitchen tile was cold, and it made a shiver run up Geralt’s spine. He set his clothes to the side of himself so Duncan could have a good view of all that was his.

Licking his lips, Geralt kept his head bowed and there was genuine regret in his voice. He wanted to Duncan to touch him, or at least tell him he was being good. “Can you forgive me, Sir? I’ll work for it.”

***

Duncan kept still for a moment, taking it all in. Even with how much Geralt had hurried to undress, his clothes were moderately well folded, a concession to Duncan's own habit. And a detail Duncan took note of.

He also took note of Geralt's already thickening cock and the way Geralt displayed it for him. The silence between them stretched and Geralt fidgeted on his knees. Moving forward, Duncan came to a halt behind Geralt and trailed a finger down Geralt's neck, over his shoulder. Grabbing on to his ponytail, he gave a tug upwards and Geralt followed, standing up.

"I know you will work for it, I'll make you. We'll see how it goes." He wrapped his arms around Geralt and pulled him close, palms ghosting over Geralt's chest and stomach down to his legs. Duncan gave a squeeze to Geralt's cock and bit down on his shoulder at the same time, tusks leaving deep marks on Geralt's white skin without yet breaking it

"Go to the bedroom, wait for me there. Leave your clothes, you won't need them." He sent Geralt off with a hard smack to the ass, hand print standing out beautifully first in even paler white and then flushing red.

***

Geralt moved quickly down the hall, into the bedroom, the door falling shut behind him with a soft click. Leaning against it for only a second Geralt blew all his air out slowly trying to center himself.

The sounds of Duncan in the house still tickled his ears, so Geralt hurried onto the bed, into the middle ready to assume his usual meditation pose that he waited for Eskel in. But then he remembered Duncan's hand in his hair pulling him up tall and how Duncan had shown him a standing pose once years ago.

Crawling back off the bed Geralt stood next to it, one wrist gripping the other painfully behind his back out of nervousness. Heart thundering in his chest. Legs apart, back straight, and head bowed, he waited for Duncan.

***

Taking his time, Duncan ambled down the hall, carrying the pile of clothes with him. He didn't want to let Geralt wait too long, but just enough to tease him.

There was a quiet intake of breath when Duncan opened the door but otherwise Geralt stayed very still. The pose he had taken brought out all his muscles and the tension in them. 

Duncan put aside the clothes and took off his own shirt, he wanted to feel Geralt's skin on his own. Walking up to Geralt from behind, Duncan hugged him again, worrying at his neck with his tusks. The skin was warm under his tongue, Geralt's pulse jumping against Duncan's lips. He left a few scratches on Geralt's neck and shoulders while softly stroking Geralt's cock. Just with his fingertips, teasing up and down the shaft. 

Once he had drawn a soft moan from Geralt, Duncan stopped and took a step back, trailing one hand down Geralt's spine. There were marks on one of Geralt's wrists from where he had held himself too hard and Duncan traced them gently. "You did well. Even paid attention to your clothes and waited for me. I'm pleased."

Pulling out a chest from under the bed, Duncan grabbed a bag of clothespins and upended it on the bed where Geralt could see them. "Let's see if we can find room for all of those."

He started on Geralt's nipples, licking and sucking at them until they were hard and pinching them with three clothespins each. Then Duncan moved slowly downwards, placing a kiss and a pin, another kiss and another pin until he had reached Geralt's hips. On the other side, he did the same.

When he was done, there were still clothespins left and not just a few. Grabbing a handful, Duncan knelt in front of Geralt and placed them on his thighs, right on the sensitive inner part. Another handful found its place there and Geralt was starting to squirm a little as the pain set in all the way down his body.

Duncan licked up Geralt's cock, sucked on the tip, while he fondled Geralt's balls. Without taking Geralt's cock out of his mouth, he started placing pins on Geralt's sac, taking a fold of skin between his fingers and pinching it with the wooden clamps. When he was done and stood up again, there were three neat rows of several pins. 

Geralt still held his hands on his back and kept his head bowed. He has his eyes closed but readily looked up when Duncan put two fingers under his chin. His pupils were wide and he bit his lip, bit it harder when Duncan ran a finger over the rows of clothespins on Geralt's torso. There was a quiet wooden clatter and a slightly louder whine from Geralt. 

Tipping Geralt's head back even further, Duncan kissed him, one hand curled in his hair. He let go so suddenly that Geralt gasped and moved slightly to keep his balance. The clothespins gave another clatter but held tight.

It looked amazing, Geralt's skin turning an even paler shade around the clamps. Taking them all off would be a long and painful process, Duncan knew that very well. He finished undressing and rolled on his back in the middle of the bed, grabbed the lube from the nightstand and spent a little time slicking up his cock, teasing himself while Geralt watched. 

"I want you to ride me. Take your time, but see to it that you don't lose any of the clothespins. I'll take them off when I think you deserve it." Duncan held out an inviting hand to Geralt.

***

“Yes, Sir.” A shiver ran through Geralt at all that was given to him. The beautiful ache, spread from his chest to thighs, and singing through his balls. And then the offer off Duncan’s cock, thick and waiting for him. He must have been so good to deserve these things from Duncan. 

Moving gingerly, not so much from the pain yet as to make sure he didn’t dislodge a single wooden pin, Geralt approached the bed and placed a knee on it. That drew a low sweet noise from him as it stretched his groin and the pins on his sac with it. Still he climbed slowly onto the mattress, walking on his knees until he could place a leg over Duncan.

Biting his lip at the pull of the clothespins as he tried to settle himself without toppling or losing a pin Geralt moaned when Duncan took his hands placing them on his chest. He let some of his weight rest there, letting out a barely there breath as he adjusted.

Duncan held his cock up, pressed slick with lube against Geralt’s hole while Geralt rocked himself gently against it. Letting his body warm up to the idea of welcoming it, while he steadied his breath Geralt added more and more pressure. He’d considered asking for a finger first but he wanted _this_ , Duncan whole and thick without anything else first.

Breathing through it, slow rhythmic circles of his hips, Geralt pushed out until his body finally gave way and Duncan popped inside. A cry caught in Geralt’s throat at the girth, the unbearable stretch and burn for a moment. Tears gathered in the corners of Geralt’s eyes and he blinked them away. For several long breaths he held himself still, Duncan’s hands running up and down the outside of his thighs encouragingly.

Carefully Geralt rocked, fingertips curled into Duncan’s broad chest. Not digging, only pressing, but hard enough to turn the skin white underneath them. Geralt choked on his air, then finally shuddered a breath out and back in. A little bit more of Duncan’s cock worked into him and back out with each rock forward on his hands.

Breathless Geralt looked into Duncan’s eyes. “Thank you for this, Sir.”

***

The sight of Geralt taking him, fucking Duncan's cock into himself even though it was clearly overwhelming, made a shiver run over Duncan. Another slow thrust and Geralt had taken him halfway.

"You're doing so well. Being so good for me." Duncan reached up to touch Geralt's face, caressed his cheek and his neck. Traced his lips with two fingers, since he couldn't kiss him right now as he would have liked to. There would be time for it when they were done, for kissing and holding Geralt.

Letting Geralt set the pace, Duncan kept still under him. He petted him, on his thighs and arms and face, not touching any of the clothespins. The ones on Geralt's inner thigh and sac moved every time Geralt moved and it was obviously painful. But Geralt only used it to push himself higher, mixing pain and pleasure.

Finally, he had taken Duncan all the way, his ass tight around Duncan's shaft, squeezing it hard. Duncan curled a hand around the back of Geralt's neck. "Don't move."

He ran a knuckle over the lines of wooden clamps, up to Geralt's chest. With quick movements, he opened and took off the ones biting down on Geralt's nipples.

***

Riding higher and higher Geralt’s mind swam in a pool of pleasure. Duncan’s hands caressing him so lovingly spurring it on. Drifting here and there, Geralt went where the current of pain carried him. Each move shifted the clothespins where Geralt straddled and rode Duncan, changing the course of the current again. The only thing tethering him to land was the pulsing thickness he was driving into himself. 

When Geralt had finally achieved his goal, had taken Duncan whole, and stretched tight as a Novigrad pawnbroker’s pursestrings around him, he was ordered still. Duncan rattled the clamps, causing him to inhale sharply at the sweet pain.

Geralt wanted to cry out when Duncan removed the pins from his nipples, but his voice was gone, there was no more than a gurgle in his throat. The pads of Duncan’s thumbs worked into the skin there, driving the pain higher and bringing the flush of beating blood back. Geralt’s ass squeezed rhythmically around Duncan as he tried to fight down the need to come, the desire to move, the overwhelming pleasure and pain wound together in a tight spring that was bound to break.

When a noise finally broke free it was a sob, and Geralt was barely able to hold still though it. 

With a slow roll of his hips under Geralt, Duncan fucked up into him gently. “You’re taking this beautifully, you can move when you’re ready.”

Leaning forward on his hands Geralt let Duncan’s cock slip out part way, then rocked back slowly, gasping loudly at the hot slide spreading him open. He waited a moment and then did it again. It felt too good to put words to it. Opened him up in a way no one else did. Soon he was gently rolling himself back and forth over Duncan’s hips.

The clatter of the clips when Duncan ran his hand up them again was loud in Geralt’s ears and he managed to get out a hurried, “Please, Sir-” just as Duncan removed several more in a row from each side of his chest. Rhythm stuttering, Geralt’s breath faltered and his face was wet when he blinked away the pain.

It became a pattern, Geralt’s hips rolling faster the more lost to his own mind he was. Duncan running his hands up the clips and then removing the next section. Geralt couldn’t even say please anymore, his ability to speak gone somewhere in the fog of pleasured pain. No matter how his cock ached and his ass throbbed he knew he could not come until Duncan told him to.

And that was alright, Duncan _always_ gave Geralt what he needed. Duncan always took care of him. Even now when he couldn’t speak Duncan was taking care of him, giving him all the pain he could ever want to go with his pleasure. Geralt choked on a sob as the clips clattered again. From his groin down to towards his knees, and the first set of pins were removed from his tender inner thighs.

***

Every time Duncan picked some of the pins off of Geralt's body, Geralt tensed up, clenching around Duncan's cock in the most pleasing way. His breath came in short, shallow bursts interrupted by sobs. At first Duncan had thought the cause for Geralt's tears was the pain, a physical reaction, but then he realized Geralt was actually crying.

Taking one of Geralt's hands, Duncan gave it a squeeze. "Are you feeling alright?"

He got a squeeze back and an emphatic nod. That was good enough for him and he let go of Geralt's hand after placing a kiss on the back of it. Answering the rolls of Geralt's hips with own, Duncan let himself be caught up in the pleasure again. In the sight of Geralt riding him faster, arching his head back every time more clothespins came off, muscles in his arms and neck standing out. 

All the clamps were gone now except those on Geralt's sac and Geralt gave a loud whimper when Duncan reached for those. Even a touch to them made him tense up. Duncan opened two and savored the way Geralt cried out, thighs pressing hard into Duncan's side, hips rocking forward in an attempt to even out the mixture of pain and pleasure.

Duncan removed two more pairs in this leisurely fashion, giving them both time to enjoy the effect. Then he took off the rest of them quickly, with no pause, overloading Geralt's senses with the pain. He took Geralt's cock in hand, stroking it, giving a twist to his wrist every time he reached the top. 

"Come for me--" Arching his back, Duncan fucked up into Geralt, aiming to add even more pleasure and drive Geralt over the edge.

***

The waves of pain grew and grew, inundating Geralt where he floated in his pool of pleasure. He felt like he was drowning all of a sudden, hiccuping sobs racking his body as he fought for air. Duncan’s hand was skillful in its strokes though, pulling him up from under the water with his expert touch.

It was only moments before the pleasure crested over the pain and Geralt’s vision went light, swimming in front of his eyes. His whole body tightening up too much just as the spring let loose. Emptying himself onto Duncan’s stomach, Geralt felt like the whole world was washing away for a moment and was leaving only them.

Unable to support his own weight anymore Geralt’s arms collapsed underneath him and he toppled forward onto Duncan’s chest. Noises filtered into his ears, desperate keening, soft sobbing, and the deep low grunt of Duncan finding his pleasure. He sobbed harder when Duncan’s cock jerked and stilled inside of him, coming not long after him. But Geralt couldn’t find the strength to lift himself off of Duncan.

Duncan hadn’t forbidden him from touching, had even encouraged it a little, and Geralt hoped he would understand why he was still laying on Duncan like a helpless ragdoll. Unable to find the words still to ask for what he needed Geralt ran a hand slow and barely there up Duncan’s bicep to his shoulder. Tried to calm his sobs, to regulate his breathing again.

All Geralt wanted was for Duncan to hold him. To pet him softly and take care of him for a bit. He’d realized he’d give Duncan anything he ordered, and it shook him that he was so open to someone, so vulnerable. Yet it was still true. With only a few words in the kitchen and a moment to prepare Duncan had come up with a way to play that was _perfectly made just for Geralt_ , and that kind of attention to detail, that amount of care, opened Geralt up wide.

***

Clutching at Geralt, Duncan fought for breath. Seeing Geralt collapse, having his body shake and jerk on top of him, around his cock, had swept him away. Now, he lay beached and exhausted, Geralt's weight anchoring him.

With his arms around him, Duncan petted Geralt's back, carded fingers through his hair. He gently pulled Geralt further up on his chest, cock slipping out to a whine from Geralt. Duncan held him until his sobs had tapered down to the occasional sniffle, nuzzling at Geralt neck.

"You did so well. I love seeing you like this, all lost and drifting." With a kiss under Geralt's ear, Duncan nudged him. "Hold on to me."

He could have stayed like this for the rest of the day but the cum on his stomach was getting annoyingly sticky. Rolling carefully so he didn't trap Geralt's arms or legs under himself, Duncan sat and hoisted Geralt up to his waist. Geralt clung to him and Duncan carried him to the bathroom, climbed into the bathtub with him. 

Convincing Geralt with little tugs and pushes to stand on his own for a moment while still petting and touching him the whole time, Duncan quickly showered them both down and dried them off before picking Geralt up again. Back in the bedroom, Duncan kept Geralt lying on top of him, pulling the covers over them both.

Geralt stirred, stretching out leisurely and coming to rest sprawled all over Duncan. Eyes half-closed, he pushed his head into Duncan's hand when Duncan caressed his cheek, ran a finger along his ear. Barely touching, Duncan explored the lines of Geralt's face with his fingertips, fascinated as always to see Geralt this soft and vulnerable.

It was a gift, offered up to him. And he gladly accepted it, along with the bittersweet pain it brought. Duncan's love was always tinged with worry, the fear of losing who he loved to circumstances beyond his control. Even with Geralt mostly retired, Duncan could never shake the feeling that they might never see each other again every time they said goodbye. But he had stopped obsessing over it and instead focused on what was _now_.

And right _now_ , Geralt was here, pliable and warm against him, nuzzling at his neck. Duncan gave him a squeeze, both arms wrapped around him.

"How do you feel?" Duncan could have taken a guess, but he wanted confirmation. Be sure that Geralt was fine.

***

Words in Duncan’s deep baritone flowed into Geralt’s body. Not only could he hear them but he could _feel_ the vibrations of Duncan speaking where their chests laid flush. Pushing himself up on his hands to look Duncan blearily in the eyes, Geralt smiled. “Amazing.”

Lowering himself back down, Geralt slid up to kiss Duncan’s ear. Ran his fingers through the short hairs of Duncan’s mohawk, enjoying the way it bristled underneath them. “That was…” Closing his eyes Geralt rested his open mouth against Duncan’s ear, thinking for a moment. “…It was like… everything you did, you chose just for me.”

Geralt swallowed and opened his eyes, turning Duncan’s face to himself. “You know me so well. I _know_ you didn’t plan that. But you were able to put together everything I desire, everything I need from you, and give it to me.” Blinking slowly Geralt studied Duncan’s face, his eyes, ran a finger down his nose. “I can give myself over to you so easily and _know_ I’ll get what I need. You always give it to me, and you always keep me safe through it. Thank you.”

***

Opening his mouth, Duncan found he had no idea what to say and closed it again, gave it another try after a moment's thought.

"I-- I honestly just went with what felt right." He trailed a hand up Geralt's back to the side of his neck, scritched at the soft stubble of the undercut. "Thank you for trusting me so much. I'm always terrified of fucking up, deep down. Of not seeing something or doing something wrong. It's- It helps to have this trust. Hear that you feel safe with me." 

A sudden impulse made him kiss Geralt. Duncan had never done that before, not in a scene and not out of one. But here, it was exactly what he wanted and needed. It was a quick kiss, taking Geralt by surprise, and when it made Geralt smile, Duncan kissed him again. Much longer and deeper this time, careful with his tusks, one hand curled in Geralt's hair. He lost himself in the kiss, closed his eyes and stopped worrying.

***

It was a shock when Duncan kissed him, but a welcome one. Geralt knew very well that it wasn’t something Duncan shared lightly and it made him feel warm all over to have it shared with him. He couldn’t help the smile spreading across his lips when Duncan drew back. Only a second passed before Duncan came back, this time seeking more, and Geralt yielded willingly. Let Duncan explore his mouth and take his fill.

Geralt wanted to tell Duncan that as long as he continued to listen to him when they played, and checked in, that he didn’t think Duncan would fuck up with him. But he was too lost in Duncan’s kisses and the warmth they flooded him with. Body still humming with the satisfaction of being played by Duncan like a fiddle, his mind was lulled by the sweetness of Duncan’s touches and Geralt drifted in his strong arms. 

Content to give and take until they were both satiated. Trading fears for trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content notes:  
> Fluff and finally kissing  
> anal sex


	4. The Sweetest Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Slipping his hand in Geralt’s Eskel pulled it under the table. When Geralt shot him a curious glance with a smile Eskel squeezed his hand and smiled back, trying hard to relax. It was fine. This was fine. He could do this and he knew Geralt would enjoy it._  
>  More new experiences for the witchers, and some for Rhys

When Rhys arrived at the cafe, with Eskel in tow, it was already filling up. But Duncan and Geralt had claimed a booth in a secluded corner with a good view of the room and were studying the menu. 

Weaving their way through the tables, plushy chairs and sofas and huge plants littered around the room in a well-planned chaos, they walked past a display of the cakes, pies and pastries on sale today. Every single one of them looked delicious, from the apple pie just screaming for a scoop of ice cream to the Danish pastries decorated with fruits and berries. The smell of good coffee and sweet dough made Rhys' mouth water.

Duncan and Geralt had chosen to sit on opposite sides of the table and so Rhys scooted on the squishy, comfortable seat next to Duncan. He greeted him with a kiss, leaning into Duncan for a moment, before grabbing a menu for himself.

***

Scooting into the booth on the same side as Geralt, Eskel was caught off guard by Rhys’ blatant display. Only a few hours before he’d had the desire to lean over the goat pen fence and kiss Rhys if they hadn’t been in public. Yet here was Rhys, leaning into Duncan to kiss him as if it didn’t matter at all that they were in the middle of a cafe.

Tearing his eyes away, when Duncan caught his gaze, Eskel hurried the rest of the way into the booth. Geralt was studying the menu with sudden interest, but Eskel picked up the rapid beating of his heart for a few moments before Geralt forced it to slow back down.

Slipping his hand in Geralt’s, Eskel pulled it under the table. When Geralt shot him a curious glance with a smile Eskel squeezed his hand and smiled back, trying hard to relax. It was fine. This was fine. He could do this and he knew Geralt would enjoy it. Geralt loved to be claimed in any way Eskel would show it.

“So, what’s good here? The pastries with fruit look tasty.” Glancing up at Rhys and over at Duncan, Eskel leaned back in the booth. This was a place he was going to fit it, he reminded himself. Rhys had told him everyone in this cafe was queer or supportive.

***

Rhys looked up when Duncan kicked his ankle, just in time to catch the tail end of the moment of uncertainty from the witchers. It took him a second to understand what was going on. 

_Whoops._ "They have a really good rhubarb pie and it's the right season for it. With loads of whipped cream. I know that's what I'm going with. And cocoa. Do you have that? It's kind of like chocolate, but as a drink with milk and it's hot." He was pretty sure they'd both like it - Eskel had a sweet tooth anyway and it wouldn't be too sweet for Geralt.

While Duncan ordered for them all, gesturing fluidly at the AR overlay of the menu, Rhys watched Eskel and Geralt, slowly relaxing again. They were holding hands under the table and Eskel still tensed the tiniest bit every time someone came close enough to see, but he was visibly getting used to it. Geralt was equally visibly happy about it.

Dropping his voice so he was sure no one else heard him, Rhys leaned forward over the table. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. But no one will look twice at me kissing Duncan or you kissing each other. Not in here and not out there. I wouldn't do it otherwise. I get that it's a lot to take in, but don't worry too much over it, yes? And do whatever you're comfortable with."

***

Clearing his throat, Eskel nodded, “It _is_ a lot to get used to, but ‘m workin’ on it.” A squeeze to Geralt’s hand made him grin widely. “I like the idea of bein’ around other people like me.” And also sweet hot drinks. Something to distract him from his nerves, as the hot cocoas were served around the table. 

Eskel let go of Geralt’s hand to cradle the hot mug in his hand and blow on it. Trying to imagine kissing Geralt in public, he just couldn’t. Some things were just meant to be private. But holding his hand, that was nice, just like with Rhys. A loud announcement to the world around them that they were with him, and he held dear that they would want him to tell the world that.

The cocoa was delicious. Chocolaty, sugary, and just hot enough. The pie was good too and Eskel was surprised that Rhys had said it was rhubarb. More importantly the white creamy spread on top was fucking glorious and he wanted to know how that was made.

“I have to ask. Is this real rhubarb? ‘Cause we don’ exactly use it for food back home. It’s more for, um… medical purposes. I’d have never thought to actually eat it, let alone that it was sweet.” There was no way he was bringing up what medicinal purpose it was mostly used for in a cafe, but he certainly hoped that something in the way it was prepared weakened its effect.

“An’ I wanna know how to make this topping. If ‘s something that can be made by hand? ‘Cause it’s amazin’!” Scooping an entire spooning for of whipped cream into his mouth and sucking the spoon clean upside down as he pulled it back out, Eskel smiled. Scars and all, enjoying himself and letting it be known.

“I don’t know if you _need_ to know how to make this topping.” Geralt was giving him the side eye and Eskel sighed at him, slightly put out. “What? You’d probably make yourself sick on it!” Geralt’s smile and soft laughter let Eskel know he was only trying to remind him to take it easy, but still. He wanted to know how to make it and he would find out. Even if he had to get Duncan to look it up for him.

***

"I can show you." Duncan grinned at Eskel's enjoyment and he liked the idea of being able to come up with some incredibly decadent dessert containing amazing amounts of cream. "It's easy, you just need some cream, a whisk and some patience. Or, if you have electricity, you can speed up the process. Tell you what, we can make dessert tomorrow."

Rhys gave a little groan at the suggestion. "I know what you're planning and I love you, but we will _all_ eat ourselves sick on that." He didn't really mind.

"And yes, that is real rhubarb. The stalks, not the root. They are usually not sweet themselves but you can make a lot of things from them - pastries, pies, other desserts. I've got one on the roof but it will take a little longer until it's ready for harvest." Striking quickly with his fork, Rhys pilfered a piece of Duncan's cheesecake.

Around them, people were enjoying their cakes and coffee. Almost all the tables were occupied now. Looking around with fresh eyes, the casually shown affection between people stood out to Rhys. Handholding, little touches, people greeting each other or saying goodbye with a kiss, two ork women very obviously busy falling in love and holding hands over the table. 

Every time Duncan and he came back from the Continent, Rhys appreciated being able to show how he felt towards Duncan this openly. It was hard, not being able to hold his hand or kiss him whenever he felt like it. He watched Eskel reach for Geralt's hand again and smiled.

***

“I’d love to make dessert with you tomorrow.” Geralt shook his head at Eskel’s enthusiastic reaction to Duncan’s offer. They were all in for it now and he was sure of it. He chose to ignore it though, in favor of the bliss of Eskel’s sword calloused hand in his.

Sipping his not quite so hot cocoa Geralt watched the patrons in the café quietly for a bit while the others chatted. Rhys was right, no one really seemed to care about a quick kiss here and there and it wasn’t just between men. There were women here with other women, something that would have been maybe even more unheard of on the Continent than men like him and Eskel.

Some of the patrons seemed to even fall somewhere in the middle. Not really appearing as a man or a woman and Geralt was immediately reminded of the conversation between him and Eskel about the little girls that were raised to be witchers. The ones who ended up being men. It was a strange concept and Eskel seemed to grasp it a hell of a lot better than him. 

It also may have been that he was a little shaken at the time by the revelation that it was completely legal for two men to marry here. But nonetheless it was an interesting and most importantly welcoming crowd to be swallowed up in at the moment. 

His mind wandered and Geralt wondered what it would have been like if Duncan had kissed him at the fountain the day before. Maybe not even on the mouth like earlier, though Gods that had been special, but just on the neck. Or if Eskel ever got the courage to greet him the way Rhys had greeted Duncan. It brought a tiny smile to Geralt’s face. It would shock him if Eskel ever got so public with his affection, but he wouldn’t turn it down if he did.

Before Geralt knew it his cocoa was empty and the conversation was winding down. Rhys and Eskel sounded like they’d had a great morning at the zoo. Eskel of course had found and fallen in love with a pen of goats. Even if he hadn’t talked all about it, Geralt could have told by the smell alone from a half a mile away.

“Well. Shall we get going? Duncan is going to take me a museum all about science.” Geralt grinned massively at the idea. “I’ll see if I can catch up on all this new technology, and some old stuff too. I think this is going to be an entire afternoon affair, me learning about how far things have come.” The last part Geralt said much quieter, for the four of them only. 

He was extremely interested in checking the place out though. Everything he saw around him here left him with unanswered questions, and they were piling up inside faster than apples falling from a tree in autumn.

“I think I need to head back to the apartment an’ jus’ be myself for a while. It’s definitely gettin’ better, but it’s nice to relax in privacy for a while every day too.” Scooting out of the booth, Eskel made way for Geralt. 

Eskel tried not to be stiff when he gave Geralt a side hug, but failed. Duncan swooped right in and took Geralt’s hand though. With a quick peck to Rhys’ lips they said their goodbyes and headed off to the museum.

“Apartment then?” Eskel raised his eyebrow in question at Rhys and held out his hand.

***

Rhys took his hand and reminded himself at the last moment to not do what he would do with Duncan and flirt shamelessly. He made do with a bright smile and a squeeze to Eskel's hand. "Please, I could do with some quiet."

Quiet was actually the last thing on his mind. Privacy, on the other hand, had been on his mind for a while now. As soon as the apartment door had fallen shut behind them, Rhys grabbed Eskel and for once used his orkish strength on him, pushing him hard against the wall for a kiss.

It was a kiss he had been waiting for all day, ever since Eskel had taken his hand at the zoo. All the waiting and impatience and excitement he had been bottling up flowed into that kiss and kept it going until Rhys absolutely had to breathe. 

A quick teasing bite to Eskel's lip ended the kiss. Rhys let go only to find himself grabbed, hoisted up on Eskel' hips and slammed into the wall himself. Eskel leaned close to whisper in Rhys' ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

“You wanna be mine for a while? Give yourself to me?” Eskel's voice was low, with a growl that went directly to Rhys' groin, made his cock twitch.

Pressing his face into Eskel's neck, Rhys nodded. "Please. Take whatever you want from me."

Eskel put him down and Rhys bowed his head, hands on his back and legs apart. Signaling that he was Eskel's to command.

***

Fisting his hand in Rhys braid, Eskel made him arch his head back and bare his neck. Eskel nuzzled into it, sniffing and inhaling Rhys’ scent, his spices and his arousal. “Tell me how many times do you think you can come? ‘Cause ‘m gonna make you come at least once more than that. You gonna give that to me? Even if if hurts?”

Letting go of Rhys’ hair Eskel stepped back and looked him in the eyes. The need in them was desperate, at least as desperate as he felt himself. “I want you on that bed naked, and kneeling when I get in there. Where do you keep your playthings here?”

***

"In the nightstand, and in that chest under the bed." Rhys thought about Eskel's other questions for a few seconds. "I can come twice, but I'll try to give you more, however many you can take from me. Even if it hurts. _Especially_ if it hurts."

He flashed a quick grin, fangs on display. "I have magic that makes every touch intensely pleasurable. That would force me to come if you touch me right, no matter how many orgasms I have had already. I can use it on myself and keep using it until you allow me to stop. Think it over, if you want this. You only need to tell me."

Bowing his head again, Rhys went to the bedroom, past Eskel who watched him with naked greed painted all over his face. Undressing quickly, Rhys folded his clothes and stored them on the dresser before climbing on the bed.

He knelt facing the door, head down and legs open, hands flat on his thigh. And then he waited. After a while, he started to fidget a little. There was nothing to be heard from outside but then Eskel moved very quietly. Rhys breathed slowly, closed his eyes and tried not to think about Eskel's hands all over his body, forcing pleasure from him.

***

 _Try?_ Eskel kept his personal displeasure over that word away from his face. Instead letting all his desires paint it with interest. Every intention in his mind was set to _making_ Rhys give him as much as he could though. Taking from him everything his body had to give and then wringing out the last drop of pleasure from him like a damp cloth.

After Rhys had closed the bedroom door Eskel padded softly down the hall. There was so much he wanted to do to Rhys at the moment. Had wanted to do to him, since the zoo, since Rhys had shown the gorilla his magic and his compassion. 

In the kitchen Eskel opened the cupboards until he found a bowl, rummaged in freezer until he located perfectly formed cubes of ice to go in it. In a drawer he found a set of chopsticks. He poked them in the ice and wandered back down the hall slowly. 

Entering the bathroom, Eskel took care not to make noise opening the medicine chest. Opening the random bottles stored there he sniffed each one until his nose informed he that he’d found some serious alcohol. Just to be sure he poured a little on his hand, signed Igni and watched it burn. Feeling it heat up in his hand, Eskel smothered the flames with his other hand and added the bottle to his kit.

When he opened the door adjoining the bedroom, Rhys was kneeling naked sideways to him. Facing the main door, waiting. His hands fidgeted only the tiniest bit at the noise, and his head remained bowed. Eskel padded quietly up behind Rhys and set his items on the bed behind him, before moving around in front.

Saying nothing, Eskel squatted down and pulled the chest from under the bed. Opening it he scooted it off to the side after removing a silk blindfold.

Taking Rhys’ hand Eskel placed the blindfold in it. “Put this on yourself. I want what you offered me, your spell. I want to take everythin’ from you, then take a tiny piece more. Fuck you right through it. You can watch, but not with your eyes.” Running a finger up Rhys’ neck, under his chin, Eskel tilted his head up and smiled gently.

***

With an answering smile, Rhys concentrated and cast the spell. It ran over him like warm rain, covering his skin and then sinking deep into him. The answering vibrations of Eskel's medallion were strong enough for Rhys to hear. 

Breathing deeply, he tried to let the spell settle for now. It didn't, as he had known when he had cast it. He had wanted it to be powerful. Not to the limit of his abilities, that would simply have been incapacitating, but strong enough that he would easily lose control of himself. The spell would take care of itself, kept up by the magical focus worked into Rhys' bear tattoo.

Rhys had to bite his lip to stop himself from giving a quiet moan when he put the blindfold on and another when he put his hands on his thighs again. These things were already enough to make him shiver with pleasure, his skin incredibly sensitive to the slightest touch. 

For now, he chose to remain blind, cocking his head to the side to hear what Eskel was doing. But once Eskel had stopped touching him, he was very hard to keep track of.

***

The effect of the spell was obvious and immediate. It set Eskel’s medallion humming against his chest, and it was clear that just the fabric of the blindfold against Rhys' face was exquisitely pleasurable. Cocking one eyebrow up Eskel smiled harder to himself. He was impressed. Both by the scope of the spell and Rhys’ willingness to put such power behind it on himself.

Remaining quiet, Eskel removed his shirt and socks. He’d left his boots by the front door. Folding his clothes he set them on top of Rhys’, pleased to see that Rhys had taken the time to do the same. 

Opening the nightstand Eskel perused its contents. Set a tube of slick jelly out, the picture made it clear enough what its use was. He noticed a box. Almost didn’t open it, but then Rhys had said this was where he kept his playthings and Eskel was curious. He didn’t think there was anything in here Rhys wouldn’t have wanted him to see or he wouldn’t have told him to look in the first place.

Opening it, Eskel’s heart skipped a beat, then another. It was the useless Temerian Floren Eskel had given to Rhys the first time they played. He took it out and turned it over in his fingers. It was far from useless to him, or apparently to Rhys and it made his heart clench. 

Closing the drawer he addressed Rhys. “Lay down on your back for me. On this side of the bed. Feet together, knees open an’ relaxed.” Eskel watched enthralled while Rhys slowly complied. Every move trying to drag an indulgent moan from Rhys’ mouth. He kept his lip bitten between his teeth painfully, trying to avert the noises. Even that proved too pleasurable and soon he’d opened his mouth and was panting openly.

The bed sank under Eskel’s weight when he sat on the other side, arranging his metal chopsticks chilling in the bowl of ice, his bottle of alcohol, and the lube within easy reach. Scooting closer to Rhys without touching him, Eskel asked for his hand. “‘M glad you kept this. ‘S worth nothin', but it means everythin’ to me that you did.”

Dropping the coin into Rhys upturned hand made him shiver with pleasure. “Keep your hand over the side of the bed an’ drop it if I take too much from you.”

Reaching over his neck Eskel took off his medallion. Dangled it by the chain over Rhys. When it first touched his skin Rhys shook, stomach tightening as he tried not to arch off the bed. The metal vibrated against the soft skin just above the inside of his knee. Eskel let it linger for a moment before drawing it down around the inside of Rhys’ calf, across his feet and up the other calf. 

Pausing again at the inside of Rhys’ opposite knee to let it sit heavy on his skin. Eskel drug the medallion up Rhys’ thigh, through the crook of his hip. Let the wolf’s head rest on his sac and coiled the thick chain around Rhys’ already stiff cock.

***

The vibrations were strong enough to draw a cry from Rhys and he writhed on the bed for a moment before he had himself under something resembling control again. What really did him in though was the fact that Eskel has taken off the medallion. Rhys hadn't been sure at first but the way the chain wound around his cock confirmed it.

Eskel _never_ took off his medallion, ever. Rhys had never seen him without it. It made his heart ache to think about how vulnerable Eskel had made himself. It also made him want to offer himself up even more than he already had.

The medallion's hum reached deep into his bones, ran through his whole body. Rhys clutched the coin hard, its edges digging into his palm. Whimpering, he tried not to come right away, arching up under the weight of the pendant and chain.

It all fell apart when Eskel unwound the chain and bound Rhys' cock with it again, tighter this time, nudging the medallion while he did it. Turning his head to press his face into the sheets, Rhys gave a loud cry. His orgasm shook him, made him blindly reach for Eskel to hold on to him, fingers splayed. 

Even before he had stopped twitching and gasping, Eskel touched him and Rhys cried out again. Eskel slowly and methodically licked up all the cum running over Rhys' stomach and down his cock. The spell didn't care that Rhys was slowly going soft, didn't care for how out of breath his orgasm had left him. It wound the coil of pleasure in Rhys' groin tight right away.

***

Drawing his medallion up, unwinding it from Rhys’ softening cock Eskel laid it on Rhys' chest. He let the chain drape over Rhys’ collarbone and onto his shoulder. For the shortest moment he’d had the thought of putting it on Rhys, but he just couldn’t, it crossed some line in his mind. It would be too much like giving it away, even for a moment.

“Lift your legs up, keep ‘em open.” Kneeling up on the bed Eskel undid his pants. It was early still but he wanted to _feel_ Rhys like this, around him.

Rhys was still catching his breath, pleasure obviously still coursing through him from Eskel’s tongue, but he followed Eskel’s orders anyway. Eskel took his time, letting it settle into Rhys’ body. Every breath shook him, and Eskel stroked himself to the sight, slicking his cock up. The gel was thicker than oil and incredibly silky slick.

Seating himself between Rhys’ legs, one hand to Rhys’ knee signaled him to lower them, and drew a moan at the same time. Eskel moved slowly, not wanting to push Rhys right over the edge again. Warm wet fingers finding his hole and circling it before pushing in with one. Waiting still for long moments while Rhys rocked and moaned through it. Then withdrawing and coming back with two.

Eskel let one leg hang off the side of the bed, scooting right up to Rhys and pressed the head of his cock into him. It was heaven, hot and tight. Rhys spasmed around him and writhed at the sensation, gulping for air and leaving Eskel biting his tongue. With devastating slowness Eskel pressed his hips home until he was flush with Rhys. Then he had to wait and just _breathe_. The sheen of sweat and the desperate sounds coming from Rhys were going to be his undoing if he didn’t.

“Melitele, you’re fuckin’ beautiful like this.” Running the barest brush of his fingertips up Rhys’ thigh Eskel clenched his own gut to hold back the desire to come when Rhys moaned and his body clamped down on Eskel’s cock again.

Picking up a chopstick from the bowl Eskel touched the now cold tip to Rhys’ stomach. Drew a cold line and a swirl. Watched Rhys’ pulse jump in his throat.

***

Rhys gave a little sob when Eskel pushed into him. For a moment he was completely overwhelmed by pleasure, running over him wave after wave. He wanted Eskel to fuck him into the mattress and he knew he would not get it yet, maybe not at all.

Fisting his free hand in his braid, pulling strands from it, Rhys tried to breathe through it. It almost worked to calm him down a little when something icy cold touched his stomach and he yelped. It left a freezing trail on his skin and Rhys gave a shiver.

The cold was a light blue in his mind, glowing and tasting like snow. Rhys followed it and the darkness fell away to a bright golden glow, crimson red marbling through it. The hum of the medallion made the glow pulse, pushing at Rhys' mind like the tide running up a beach and drawing back. The air smelled of tangy salt and stone.

Green tendrils reached for the golden glow like saplings aiming towards the sun. They melted away when they touched it, liquid bright green floating on the surface of the gold until it sank. 

For all his arousal, Rhys' cock stayed limp and Rhys gave a frustrated moan. He wanted to touch himself, do it just right. But he didn't even try, held onto his braid to keep himself from it.

***

Eskel continued to draw idly, letting the cold tip trail up the side of Rhys’ ribcage, tracing the lines of his tattoos where they curled there. When the tip no longer elicited the same startled gasps and shivers from Rhys, he set it back in the ice. Exchanged it for the other one. 

A new trail of cold blazed wide concentric circles around Rhys’ nipple, getting ever smaller. Eskel watched as it budded up and just when the cold metal was sure to touch it, he set it back in the bowl instead. Rhys was breathing fast, twisting his hair in his hands.

Opening the bottle of alcohol Eskel swished a chopstick in it. Held the tip over Rhys’ tight nipple and tapped it until a few drops fell. The cold and wet made Rhys suck in air through his teeth. Holding the chopstick and bottle in one hand Eskel directed his fingers and his mind with the other. Igni brought a lone flicker of heat to life on Rhys. 

Eskel couldn’t contain his own startled noise at the pleasure of Rhys’ body reacting to his exploration. In the grip of the spell Rhys’ muscles contracted and loosened, breath heaving as he tried to control himself. Extinguishing the flame with a twist of his fingers, Eskel dipped the chopstick in the alcohol again. This time he flicked it at Rhys’ chest and abdomen scattering cold droplets aimlessly.

A quiet whoosh, and Rhys’ upper body was lit by tiny flames here and there. Everywhere a drop of alcohol had landed, a single flame licked at Rhys’ skin, heating it. Eskel thought they looked like bright stars in the night sky, waiting to go to sleep when the sun would come up. They danced on Rhys' perfect skin with every buck and roll of his body. 

Capping the bottle and setting it aside Eskel watched and listened. Mouth open in awe, Eskel rested his hands on the junction of Rhys hips, thumbs dipping in to graze over the tendons of his groin. Rhys cried out and Eskel rose a hand to snuff out flames, before doing it again. 

Thumbs skimming the inside of Rhys’ groin, Eskel bent himself in half forward. Turned his head to the side and let his shaggy hair fall across Rhys’ chest. Light as a feather back and forth, over his medallion, a nipple and then back over and to the other.

***

"Please, may I touch you?" Rhys had his free hand clutching at the sheets to keep still and he wanted the comfort of touch. With the heat from the flames slowly fading and Eskel's soft touch, he needed it. Needed to _do_ something and since he couldn't fuck himself on Eskel's cock like he wanted to, this was it.

Eskel gave a hum and took Rhys' hand, leaned his face into it. It forced a loud moan out of Rhys. There was comfort in this but the price was losing more control. Rhys explored with his fingertips to get his bearings, finding the scar and following it until he could bury his fingers in Eskel's hair.

For a moment, he wrapped both arms around Eskel and hugged him tightly to himself, arching up when the touch set his body on fire even more hotly than Eskel's Igni. The heat sank right into his groin and settled there. 

Rhys let go of Eskel right away, only keeping one hand playing with his hair. His cock was growing hard again, pushed by the spell and trapped between them. Muscles contracting around Eskel buried inside of him, Rhys couldn't help but arch up again to rub himself against Eskel. It did nothing to relieve the tension and the ache in his groin.

***

Eskel savored the way Rhys grasped at him, seeking comfort from him. That it only made Rhys rock against him in pleasure sent a jolt of arousal into Eskel’s gut. Each comfort Rhys sought and took, multiplied into an unforgiving swell of pleasure. Eskel wondered if the spell would make painful things pleasurable too.

Testing his theory he opened his mouth and licked Rhys’ chest. Working his way across it, he interjected a nibble, soft, the gentlest nip of teeth. Rhys arched his chest up into Eskel and let out a heady groan. Still rocking his cock up against Eskel’s abdomen seeking friction.

Another lick and another nip. Eskel worked his way across to the other side until his teeth rested, clamped over Rhys’ pebble hard nipple. Letting his teeth sink in—never hard enough to break skin—just hard enough to go past the edge of pain, Eskel licked over it drawing it tightly away from Rhys’ body. Waiting to see if he reacted in pleasure, pain, or both.

***

Rhys arched up into him, crying out. It was hard to draw the line between pain and pleasure, both sending the same shudders over his body. 

He clutched at Eskel, tugging roughly at his hair in a reflex. His cock was hard by now, pulsing against Eskel's stomach, head rubbing over the scars there. Wrapping his legs around Eskel, Rhys pushed him deeper inside, ankles pressing against Eskel's ass. 

With a whimper, Rhys grasped at the last shreds of control he had and let go, stilling himself as best as he could. Waiting for Eskel to allow him more pleasure.

***

Eskel was glad Rhys let go on his own. He could have ordered Rhys to if he hadn’t and Rhys would have obeyed, but he didn’t want to _have_ to. The desperation behind Rhys clutching at him spoke to Eskel about what Rhys needed from him.

Planting his foot on the floor, Eskel rose up and leaned down, pressing his hips slow and hard against Rhys’, effectively pinning them to the bed. At the same time he took Rhys wrists and held each one to the side of his head, careful to keep Rhys’ right hand at the edge of the bed so he could still drop the Floren if he needed.

Setting his mouth against Rhys collarbone Eskel licked and nipped along it. Down onto Rhys’ pec where he sunk his teeth in, hard enough to leave a bruise later. Crying out Rhys tried to buck up underneath him but Eskel held him down. Rhys was unexpectedly strong, and Eskel had to lean his whole body into it to keep him pinned down.

Licking over the bite, and moving along without a pause to bite right next to it Eskel gave Rhys no pause. No chance for the pleasure to subside. The fourth bite landed on Rhys’ nipple again and Eskel worried the nub between his teeth, flicking his tongue over it, sucking hard at it and pulling it away from Rhys body. Pleasure and pain were so intricately intertwined for Rhys that it was impossible to tell what made him sob. 

Only when Eskel felt Rhys’ fighting wain did he move to the other side and start repeating the process again. Hard bites, teeth digging in and tugging at the skin, just shy of breaking it. Rhys heaved a sob and hot cum spilled, trapped between Rhys’ abdomen and Eskel’s.

Leaning further forward heedless of the mess Eskel captured Rhys mouth in a kiss. Slow and gently he rocked his hips into Rhys. A fraction of an inch out and back in. Dragging his cock over Rhys’ insides, sensitive and on fire with pleasure.

“Now ‘s my turn.” Eskel kissed Rhys again, nipped softly at his lip. Gloried at the sweet moan it brought, the spell making even that intense.

***

Pinned under Eskel, Rhys had no choice but to try and breathe through the pleasure. It hadn't ebbed at all, kept his body overly sensitive, poised at the edge of another orgasm. He was exhausted and wanted to rest, wanted it to stop.

Even the friction of Eskel's skin on his, the weight of him, was too much. Rhys' cock was caught between them, squeezed with every move Eskel made, sending ripples of delicious pain through Rhys. 

Rhys couldn't help bucking and writhing in Eskel's hold, nerves ablaze. It didn't bring him any relief and Eskel only held him tighter. Every thrust into Rhys made him cry out softly. The pain from the bites melted into a warm glow. 

When Eskel picked up the pace the tiniest bit, Rhys arched his neck, mouth open in a scream that wouldn't come. He only had enough air for a pitiful hoarse sob.

***

Slick with sweat and skin shining in the light, Rhys' neck was beautiful and Eskel mouthed over it. The way Rhys craned it up trying to scream looked like an offering to Eskel and he couldn’t hold himself back from taking it. Licking and kissing it, the whooshing of Rhys’ pulse crashing in his ears before he set his teeth to it and bit.

Hips rolling against Rhys in a brutally perfect slow pace to build the tension in his own body to a peak, Eskel closed his eyes and moaned when Rhys let out a hoarse scream. 

Trapped between them Eskel’s medallion thrummed with energy. When Eskel rose up to cover Rhys’ mouth with his own, it slid away somewhere onto the bed next to Rhys’ neck. 

Stifling Rhys’ cries with his kiss sent Eskel’s arousal higher. The tremors of Rhys’ attempted sobs running right through his core and into his groin. Drawing himself further out, Eskel pushed back into Rhys. Every plunge just as slow as the last, drinking in the way Rhys body quivered around his cock.

It was _perfect_. What he’d waited for. Letting Rhys up for air, his body felt looser, hotter under Eskel. Then it contracted around his cock hard. Rhys jerked against him and roared in pain as Eskel pushed him right into another orgasm his body wasn’t prepared for.

For a brief moment Eskel had the urge to keep fucking Rhys right through it. He’d cast a spell so perfect it would make him come again, and again, until he passed out. And in a terrifying thought he realized Rhys might let him take that.

Stilling himself Eskel kissed Rhys’ ear. “You can let it go for me now.”

***

It took some time for the meaning of Eskel's words to find their way through the haze. Rhys fought to keep himself still, afraid of being pushed right over the edge again if he moved wrong. His muscles twitched and shuddered, clenching around Eskel. Every clear thought was pushed out of his head by the mindless pleasure racing through him.

The medallion's vibrations drowned out what was left of his thoughts, leaving Rhys with nothing but the agony of another orgasm threatening to claim him. 

_Let go._ It got through to him. With his mind just as sluggish and exhausted as his body, it took Rhys several attempts to focus enough to unravel the spell. Finally, it fell apart, washing all the unbearable ecstasy away with it. It left Rhys hollowed out and dazed, barely aware of his surroundings.

Everything was quiet and muffled, sound only coming from a distance. Eskel's touches and kisses were there but the body they happened to wasn't quite Rhys' own. 

He fled into astral sight, dived into their shared aura. Golden-green, reflecting a roaring, out of control fire. Rhys curled up, wound the strands of Eskel's aura around himself like a cocoon and breathed in the stone and sea smell. Underneath it all, the glass harp of Eskel's scar sang and vibrated through Rhys.

***

It seemed to take forever, and Eskel held his breath. Holding himself utterly still, with his forehead resting against the side of Rhys’ head, Eskel poured all his patience into not taking more from Rhys when it was right at his fingertips. He wanted it. But he wouldn’t take it. And then his medallion ceased its hum.

“You don’ need to give me anymore.” Giving in to the urge to move again Eskel rocked back out of Rhys, let go of his wrist and slid his arm under Rhys’ neck to brace his body before burying himself deep inside again. 

“You’re still mine. ‘M gonna have this.” Fucking Rhys methodically, every thrust rolling deep and squeezing Eskel’s cock in an exquisite way, he sought his own release. “But I won’ take anymore from you.”

Hand crawling up from Rhys’ other wrist, Eskel intertwined their fingers. No longer holding Rhys down with force, but offering him a comforting heavy blanket. Next to Rhys’ neck Eskel’s medallion started up a soft hum again, more muted than before and Eskel knew Rhys had retreated into astral sight.

The thought of it curled satisfyingly in his chest. Rhys would feel safe there, and the way he described it to Eskel always sounded so peaceful. “Tha’s it, let yourself drift there.”

Winding himself tighter around Rhys’ lax body Eskel kissed the bruises on his neck. Let his hips roll in their own yearning rhythm, gently picking up speed as the bliss of Rhys still twitching erratically around him started to overwhelm him.

When Rhys squeezed Eskel’s hand sluggishly it sent a shiver through him. But it was Rhys’ leg brushing up against his, trying to hold Eskel close and failing, that sent him over the edge. With a few more spasmodic thrusts Eskel grunted, dizzy that such a small thing could feel so _special_.

For a long while afterward Eskel just laid, blanketing Rhys—supporting some of his weight on the foot he had on the floor and the arm curled under Rhys’ neck—kissing everywhere he’d left a bruise. Listening to Rhys’ heart as its thundering beat diminished to a regular drum. 

Eventually Eskel propped himself up and picked up his medallion slipping it over his neck easily with one hand before gradually pulling the blindfold up from Rhys’ eyes. “You’re perfect to me you know that?” Eskel smiled down at Rhys. “How’re you feelin’?”

***

Still caught up in astral space, Rhys blinked only by reflex in the light. The fire had died down to embers, hidden away but radiating heat. When the golden flood had ebbed away, it had left Rhys curled up among the trees, the scent of stone and moss mingling around him.

He stretched and groaned, falling back to normal sight to smile up at Eskel and steal a kiss. His body ached all over but it was a satisfying ache. More than anything, he wanted to sleep now.

"I'm fine. Tired. Fucked out. I never regretted learning that spell." Rhys laughed, slowly and deliberately hugging Eskel to himself, not minding the mess of sticky cum between them. "I've been thinking all day about this."

Too exhausted even to keep his arms up in the embrace, Rhys sprawled on the bed. "I could do with some water? There's a bottle next to the armchair I think?' He waved vaguely in the direction.

***

"Of course. Stay right here. I'll get it an' I'll wipe you down. Then you can sleep." Hyperaware of Rhys mouth and how he was allowed to kiss it now Eskel lowered himself to taste Rhys' lips. 

Smiling to himself Eskel got up, carried the melting bowl of ice to the kitchen. Padded down the hall to wet a couple of washcloths and came back with the water bottle. He helped Rhys, propping him up and supporting him while he guzzled, then set the bottle aside.

Laying Rhys back Eskel wiped him down. Alternating between a warm washcloth and cool one until all the sweat and cum had been cleaned away. Eskel gave himself a cursory wash and then crawled over Rhys onto the bed.

"C'mere. In my lap." Sluggishly Rhys arranged himself into Eskel's lap, curled up half on his side over Eskel's legs. 

Eskel let his hands roam over Rhys in a soothing pattern. Long strokes skimming his skin, and deeper squeezes sinking into the tired muscles. Strained from overwork. Over Rhys' arms and back, the heels of his hand digging into any remaining tension Rhys' body held from the spell.

And while he did it Eskel talked. Soft, low, velvety rumbles. Telling Rhys how amazing he was, how much Eskel appreciated what he'd given him. Describing each bruise that had formed. There was a lot Eskel wanted to say. Some he would say now, and some he would hold onto for later, when both their heads were clear. He was falling in love with Rhys and he knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Notes:  
> fluff and smut  
> orgasm control/torture  
> temperature play  
> fire play  
> anal sex


	5. Object Permanence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It bugged Geralt that of all his partners, he’d never have something permanent like a scar from Eskel. The scars from Duncan and Rhys meant something special to him. He’d chosen to keep them, they weren’t like his other scars, consequences of poor choices, accidents, or the dangers of the Path. They were promises. Reminders that he was something more to them, and that they were each something more to him._  
>  Of vows and tattoos.

The morning was spent lounging in the living room after a late breakfast. Everyone seemed to need a bit of laziness after the zoo and the museum the day before. Eskel was looking forward to learning how to make dessert with Duncan later and honestly had no plans to leave the apartment at all if he could help it. 

London was great. Fun, exciting, and eye opening in more ways than he could name, but Eskel needed to have some time to decompress fully.

Just after lunch Geralt snuck up to him, wrapped him in an embrace and asked if Eskel minded being left behind with Duncan for a while. Rhys had somewhere special he wanted to take him.

With a pleased snort Eskel had drawn him in. "Enjoy yourself. 'M not goin' _anywhere_."

It was almost adorable watching Geralt buzz around getting ready to take off with Rhys. Whatever they were going to see it had really grabbed his interest.

Eskel on the other hand, had occupied an end of the couch and was not going to give it up. Tilting his head up he let Geralt steal a chaste kiss before flitting out the door with Rhys. Quiet settled over the apartment and Eskel let it sink into his bones.

The wonderful thing about spending time with Duncan was that Eskel didn’t feel the need to keep up aimless conversation. There was a bit where Duncan sat cleaning one of his guns, and Eskel asked questions. Putting the pieces together in his mind and mapping out how it would work to create a controlled explosion. Afterward they fell back into an easy silence again.

But then a thought occurred to Eskel. He’d been meaning to talk to Duncan about something for a while and this was an opportune time.

“Hey, gotta question for you.” Swiveling himself around Eskel pulled his feet up on the couch to sit crossed legged and look at Duncan. “You can tell me to piss off if you wanna but ‘m curious.”

Duncan leveled one eyebrow at Eskel questioningly.

“How’d you ask Rhys to marry you?” Eskel had been mulling over how to ask Geralt ever since he’d talked to Rhys, and broken the news to Geralt that the orks were married. But nothing seemed quite right, and he was nervous about it in a way he wasn’t sure he should be. 

He didn’t want to ask Rhys about it anymore. Rhys hadn’t been the one to ask Duncan. This was something he wanted to know from Duncan. “An’ I don’ jus’ mean how, as in, what did you say? Though I wanna know that too. But like how? Where did you find the courage to do that.”

***

Duncan grinned, both at Eskel asking and at the memory of that day. He came over to the couch to sit across from Eskel, grabbed the little stone bear from the shelf on the way. Petting its smooth surface, he thought for a minute about the question.

"I was _terrified_. I had known I wanted to ask him for a while, for months. But I wasn't sure how to do it and if I really should - we had never talked about marrying before. But I wanted to do it. To make that promise to him out loud. And then Rhys took me to meet Bear which was more like meeting his parents that meeting his parents was. Somehow. Bear gave me the last nudge I needed. Told me that we belonged to each other. Asked me what I was going to do about it." Duncan laughed, remembering the moment in vivid detail, from the wild scent of Bear to the rush of the river next to them.

Holding up the little bear on his palm, he showed it to Eskel. "Rhys once said he doesn't like rings. Neither do I, they get caught in stuff. I knew I wanted to make him a bear. So I did some research and found a couple of tutorials for sculpting soapstone. It's not that hard to do, even though I broke my first two tries. And then I found just the right piece of stone for this."

"I chickened out of asking him twice. Didn't feel right. I finally did it here, on the roof. Cooked dinner and everything, but that's not so unusual and he didn't know anything was up. Almost chickened out again. And then I just asked him. Would you marry me." Duncan looked down at his hands and up at Eskel again, suddenly serious.

"He was so surprised and took-- well it probably was like two seconds. But it felt _much_ longer. And I had time to regret everything, to imagining him saying no, laughing at me for that stupid idea. Don't get me wrong, I know he would never do that. But man, I still could _hear_ it." 

The memory of Rhys' openly delighted smile brought one to Duncan's face as well. "Obviously, he said yes. I almost forgot to give him the bear. Would have if the box I had it in hadn't poked me in the leg. And it was like-- all the weight and doubt was suddenly gone. Hasn't been back since. So yeah, don't overthink it I guess. If you can."

***

“I think I’ve already overthunk it for a while.” Letting himself fall sideways to rest against the back of the couch, Eskel let out a preoccupied huff. “Mmm since about the time we camped with those elves.” 

“I’ve talked with Rhys ‘bout it. An’ I didn’ think it was important to me, but it _is_. I really want that, so ‘m not sure why ‘m so damn nervous about it. ‘S not like he would say no, but when I sit an’ think about it I can think of a hundred reasons why he might.” Eskel looked at Duncan earnestly then, staring right into his eyes. “So I wanted to ask you what it was like. ‘Cause Rhys only had to answer the question, not ask it.”

Eskel laced his fingers behind his head, turned and relaxed back into the couch, feeling better already. “‘S good to know you were nervous as fuck too.”

“I can’t give him a ring either, tha’s too dangerous on the Continent. An’ I don’ wanna do it there. I’d wanna ask him here, where it had meanin’. I should prolly jus' quit screwin’ around an’ do it. Then I’d feel better.” Humming to himself Eskel had a thought. “I wonder if I even really need to give him anything? A symbol is nice, but I jus’ don’ know what he’d want ‘sides a ring.”

***

Duncan put the little bear carefully down on the table, with a last pat to its head. "Why would Geralt say no? Sure, you probably do have a lot of reasons why he would but that's the fear talking. If I had asked you if Rhys might say no, you would have told me the same: why would he?"

"And yeah, you should just ask. A ring or a bear or whatever, that's just decoration on the cake. The asking is the important thing. You can talk later whether you want to give each other something during the marriage ceremony. You need to talk anyway about it and how you want it to be. What you want your promise to each other to be and stuff. Don't get too hung up on asking him. He loves you, there's practically no way for you to fuck this up." Duncan couldn't help but feeling a little like an impostor, he wasn't good at this stuff. Telling people how to talk to other people.

***

"I know he loves me. He shows me in a hundred little ways every day we're together." Stretching his legs out, Eskel crossed his ankles. Thought of all the small things Geralt did to show he cared. The ever present stream of apples for Scorpion. The times he'd caught Geralt oiling his swords alongside his own. How, when he set out on the Path, he invariably found some treat tucked away, hidden in the bottom of his saddle bag, even though he packed it himself and never saw Geralt near it.

"Tha's not somethin' I question. I jus' worry maybe this whole idea of doin' somethin' like makin' a statement in front of friends an' family which is so important to me… won't be as important to him." Sighing hard Eskel closed his eyes. "But maybe you're right. Maybe tha's jus' fear talkin'. I feel like I should have it all perfect, everythin' taken care of myself 'fore I ask him, then he doesn't hafta worry or be afraid with me? He can jus' enjoy it for what it is, a proof of my commitment."

***

"But that's not what it is." Duncan leaned forward. "It's a proof of your commitment to each other. Logistics aside, this is not something you can or should do all by yourself. It's something you both need to do together. You'd be taking something away from him if you took care of everything."

Duncan nudged Eskel's leg to get him to look at him again. "You ask, that's the start. And then you can make it into something meaningful together. And believe me, you do not want to plan a wedding all by yourself. Not even a small one. Geralt would notice at the latest when you have a breakdown from all the stress."

He gave a smile, to show that he wasn't _completely_ serious despite his tone. "Not even Rhys tried that. And Rhys always wants to have everything planned out in his head when something has him worried. He's not good with uncertainty. But some things you can't plan. Or can't plan all alone." 

"Maybe Geralt will worry or be afraid to take that step. What you do is talk to each other. Not plan everything to perfection. And if you have everything planned, that's a lot of pressure for Geralt, too. Just as overwhelming as making a public proposal in front of a shitton of people." Duncan gave a shudder at the thought.

***

“Oh Gods, no. Nothing public. I’ll ask him when we’re alone, somewhere private. Maybe a park here or something like that when no one else is around.” Something Duncan had said all the way back when they’d camped with the elves popped into Eskel’s mind. While he was more than happy to promise himself to Geralt in front of their friends and family, with nothing but their intentions to bind it, it couldn’t hurt to ask. 

After all it was important to Eskel that he ask Geralt here, where it was actually allowed and not back home. “Alright last question an’ I’ll quit pesterin’ you. ‘S alright if we can’t, but you said before that you an’ Rhys did somethin’ where you registered your marriage? After you actually got married. That anyone could do that?” 

Eskel knew that Rhys and Duncan’s world had a way of tracking all of metahumanity. They’d brought some gold and some gems—untraceable items that held value everywhere—with them, for the orks to fence to help pay to set up their identities here. To make it safe for them to travel and stay with their partners. But he didn’t really know to what depth their identities had been constructed.

“I know we only have fake SINs but would we be able to do that? If we paid all the fees?” Eskel smiled at Duncan. “‘S really alright if we can’t ‘m just curious if we could make it completely legal like that.”

***

Duncan couldn't stop the doubtful look on his face. There was no real reason for it, they had made sure the SINs could withstand that kind of scrutiny easily. But he couldn't help but feel like it was an unnecessary risk. He reminded himself that he got married with a fake SIN as well - but if he was caught, he'd go to prison. The witchers would go to some corporate laboratory.

"Yeah, you could do that." Duncan tried to keep his doubt out of his voice. "The SINs are more than good enough to get married with. It actually makes them look even better. The check they run is only low level."

***

"You're worried. Even though you say 's safe." Pondering Duncan's anxiety Eskel reached over and squeezed Duncan's calf.

"I like that you're so protective of us, but if you know it's safe, try not to worry yourself needlessly. Geralt an' I would never do anythin' to take ourselves away from you." Squeezing hard one more time Eskel let go of Duncan's leg and sat back.

"I don' know if we'd do it or not. I think I'll take you advice an' talk to Geralt about it. After I ask him." Eskel grinned, big and wide—decision finally made.

***

Grinning back, Duncan tried to relax. He was thrilled to see Eskel so happy about this and he was sure Geralt would be just as happy. Attending their wedding was something Duncan looked forward to already.

There was still worry tinging the happiness for him and it wouldn't go away. "I know you won't be reckless. It's just-- I can never stop thinking about these things. And no matter how careful I've been and how careful the people I love have been, life has had a habit of fucking me over if I get attached. I don't worry as much as I used to. But it's still there. Up here," he pointed at his head, "I know it's safe. But here," a hand to his heart, "I'm afraid that by some unlucky chance you end up on a corporate laboratory. Because seeing how your mutations work would be worth an incredible amount of money for way too many people."

He reached out to squeeze Eskel's hand. "Don't let that stop you. It _is_ safe for you."

***

“We're the sum of our experiences as people. Sometimes that makes us stronger, sometimes it makes us weaker, depends on what we're forced to deal with an’ what life throws at us. One thing you gotta remember though, is that strong or weak is all about how you view it. An’ the sum of our experiences is also what makes us _unique_.” Eskel got the distinct impression this inability to turn off the worry in his chest was something Duncan had struggled with for a long time. Since he said he didn’t worry as much as he _used to_.

“To you, it might seem like a fault. But to Geralt—that you are a bit overprotective—well I think tha’s somethin’ he really loves about you. It lets him trust you, makes him feel safe. An’ to me, ‘s a comfort. ‘M from a harsh world, an’ I don’ find it easy to trust jus’ anyone with Geralt’s safety but I can be at ease when he’s with you. Even here when we are practically naked with no weapons.” Raising his eyebrows at Duncan Eskel tried to let the humor he felt at being so denuded of weaponry sneak through to his face.

Pointing at the scarred side of his face, Eskel let his smile shift into something more calm, serious but not sad. “We’ve all had experiences, you, me, Geralt, even Rhys. My experience has taught me that every action has a consequence an’ sometimes I take that too far. Like when I think about askin’ Geralt to marry me. ‘S why the temptation to arrange it all perfectly ahead of time, account for every action an’ its inevitable consequence, is there. But your right. I can’t. It can be hard to shake.”

“When I can’t let it go, I go for a walk alone. Or I meditate, stare into a fire an’ empty my mind of all my worries one by one until ‘s blank. Then I stay with that emptiness until ‘m done. It settles my mind for a bit at least.” Eskel shrugged. “If you wanna try it sometime lemme know.”

***

"Oh, I've tried." Duncan gave a short laugh, not entirely amused. "Meditation never worked for me. My father tried to get me into it but it only made me more worried or more angry, whichever was the worse problem. Both, most of the time. But he also got medication for me and that helps a lot with not feeling like everything is out to get me and everyone I care about. And he got me into tai chi - that's kind of mediation through movement. I still do that."

It struck him how much he had missed doing tai chi when he came to the Continent and had neglected it over how much there was to see and do every day. And remembered Eskel going through his forms. "I can show you. If you want to, you can have my training sword, too. After we practiced sword fighting, I got into kendo again. It's not the same as a real sword but better than a broomstick or something if you want to train."

***

"I'd like that a lot. Both. I keep my mind settled a lot with meditation an' movement—practicin' with my sword. I can meditate anywhere, though I haven't taken the time to here an' I prolly should. I'd feel better." Eskel shrugged at himself, picked at imaginary lint on his leg. He'd been busy since he arrived, he hadn't meant to neglect his habits.

"'M like you in that I get antsy if I don't maintain these routines. 'S very much what keeps me centered." Already his hands itched to get on the kendo sword. Bamboo, steel, or silver. It didn't matter as long as he could put his feet in the right place, and let his arms connect to his hands holding it. Feel his whole body again.

"I think I would like this tai chi. I like routine and ordered movements with meanin' a lot. We should definitely do it together." Eskel looked at Duncan, pleased. He had answers and new ideas. And maybe a wooden sword.

"I wonder when those two will be back. I might test out your bath tub. I love the shower, but a good soak is never overrated." Ready to relax and let the stress of talking melt away Eskel pondered a bath alone.

***

'I think they'll be a while. If you're taking a bath, I'm going to get groceries. Do you want anything in particular?' Duncan called up the shopping list with a gesture from his commlink.

A little later, he left the apartment to shop for dinner and very definitely oranges, Eskel has been enthusiastic about that. From the bathroom, he heard the sound of their troll-sized bathtub filling up with water and wondered for a moment if he should have told Eskel which of the bottles was for bathing and how much of its contents to use. But Eskel would figure it out.

~~~~~~

Rhys hugged the squat ork who had come to greet Geralt and him. 'It's good to see you.' He turned to Geralt: 'Geralt, this is Jenga. He's going to poke you with needles for the next couple of hours.'

Standing back, he watched them say hello and go over the design one last time. Jenga had done many of Rhys' tattoos, not least the bear on his back and he was good at his job. With huge hands, two broken tusks that were capped with silver, no hair by choice and of course tattoos all over his body, Jenga was an intimidating figure. But he greeted Geralt warmly and easily chatted with him.

There weren't many people around in the shop. A troll was getting an elaborate tattoo on his forearm, a stylized stag standing proudly in front of pine trees that unfolded like a rorschach test. Another customer discussed her next tattoo with one of the artists. Framed pictures on the walls displayed their artwork and glass cabinets held piercing jewelry and various telesma. Nothing too expensive out here, the more powerful magical substances were kept elsewhere. 

The shop specialized in magically infused tattoos and Jenga wasn't the only mage among the artists. Anyone who thought they could easily get their hands on the telesma was in for an ugly surprise. But they also did just normal tattoos and that was what Geralt was here for.

***

Geralt had noted the way Eskel traced the bite marks from Rhys on his chest and Duncan on his shoulder. How he’d commented on Geralt keeping the scar from Duncan’s deep bite to his shoulder that night at the Passiflora. And while Geralt was absolutely sure it didn’t bother Eskel at all that he’d chosen to keep those mementos of his other partners, it did irk Geralt for an entirely different reason. 

It bugged Geralt that of all his partners, he’d never have something permanent like a scar from Eskel. The scars from Duncan and Rhys meant something special to him. He’d chosen to keep them, they weren’t like his other scars, consequences of poor choices, accidents, or the dangers of the Path. They were promises. Reminders that he was something more to them, and that they were each something more to him.

Biting a person hard enough to leave a permanent mark like that wasn’t in Eskel though and Geralt knew better than to even ask. So instead he’d asked Eskel how he felt about Geralt getting a tattoo instead. Though Eskel had raised his good eyebrow, smirking at Geralt and commenting about the quality of tattoos available in the port towns, he hadn’t objected. _'If having something permanent on your body to remind you that you’re special to me too is important to you, then do it,'_ Eskel had said.

That had at least a month ago, and Geralt was sure Eskel had either forgotten their conversation or decided that Geralt had. But he hadn’t. On the contrary, he’d been planning. Geralt wanted Eskel’s mark to be something special. Extraordinary. Something that made anyone who saw it know it was important, not just some portside sailor’s tattoo.

One thing Geralt had noticed right away about Rhys years ago when they first played was that Rhys didn’t have tattoos like most people from the Continent. He was covered in _art_. When Geralt envisioned Eskel’s mark in his mind, that was what he saw—art. And while he wasn’t much of an artist himself, Rhys was quite the sketcher. So he’d spent time telling Rhys what he wanted and then waited and waited. Until they’d come to London. So he could get art like that for Eskel’s tattoo.

The design Geralt showed to Jenga wasn’t overly complicated. It didn’t need to be. It had meaning, that was what mattered the most to him. Simple black lines, and a stylized wolf’s head. The lines of the wolf’s neck melted and blended in with the beginning lines of a fancy capital E written in calligraphy.

After going over the last few tweaks and Jenga suggesting a few of his own personal touches to the design Geralt removed his shirt and took a seat. The shop smelled of a mix of chemicals and the faint afterburn of magic. Geralt had decided to have Jenga put Eskel’s tattoo in between his shoulderblades. Right over his spine, someplace he hopefully wouldn’t be acquiring any new damage or scars anytime soon.

There was barely a prick when Jenga got to work. Geralt could feel the buzz of the needle against his skin, but it didn’t really hurt. Not like a nekker claw digging under it. Letting out a breath Geralt relaxed into the feeling. He could see why Rhys had so many. It was almost relaxing. Quietly he hoped that his body wouldn’t heal so quickly it was noticeable, he didn’t want it to be too obvious that this would be perfectly healed up just a day at most.

***

Rhys sat and watched, occasionally standing up to see how the tattoo was coming along. Geralt seemed a little zoned out but that was something Rhys knew from himself when getting tattoos, especially the big ones. Seeing the art appear on Geralt's skin made him want to have another one. He was kind of running out of space.

_Maybe just a small one._ "Did I mention tattoos are kind of addicting? I don't even know why, maybe because of the knowledge that this is what you _choose_ to do with your body. But you may find yourself wanting another. I'm sorry." He grinned at Geralt.

Behind Geralt's back, Jenga laughed. "It's the truth. Even worse than piercings."

***

From behind his cloud of relaxation Geralt listened to their words. He could practically _hear_ Rhys plotting his next piece of art. And he was a bit excited to see what Rhys would come up with and where he would manage to fit it in.

“Mmhmm. I can see that, and you’re not sorry at all.” Geralt thought on Rhys’ words about what you choose to do to your body. “I choose to do a lot of things to my body, this is just the newest thing? I don’t think Eskel would like it if I came back with a piercing though.” Geralt let out a quiet bemused laugh at the thought of Eskel’s reaction to that.

“I like having marks to show what's important to me. A tattoo fits in with that really well.” The urge to touch the orks' scars poked at Geralt’s mind but he couldn’t move while Jenga was working. So he sat still.

***

Rhys could see Geralt getting a little restless, so he sat down and placed his hand on Geralt's arm. He ran his fingers up and down over it, just a casual touch meant to calm.

"Mmhmm." Jenga seemed to think about something for a moment while the needle buzzed on, tracking lines on Geralt's skin. 

"Tell me if it's none of my business and I'll shut up, but where _did_ you get all these scars from? I've never seen anything quite like it - most people get rid of scars these days." The question came offhandedly, like Jenga was only making conversation.

And he probably was. But Rhys still held his breath. They had talked about what to say if anyone asked - the witchers couldn't just tell anyone that their work left them like this. Not that there weren't monster hunters in Shadowrun but people way too often were interested in hearing about monsters. Neither Eskel not Geralt knew enough about monsters in the Sixth World to bluff their way through such a conversation.

***

It took a conscious effort not to tense up at the question. Geralt was aware that his scars would draw attention here, he’d been cautious of it when he’d taken his shirt off but there was no way to avoid it either. At least, unlike Eskel, the majority of the time no one would see his.

Geralt had seen with glaring clarity the way the troll kids around the apartment building and plenty of other people on the street had _watched_ Eskel. They watched him too, to a lesser degree. It was the way they carried themselves he suspected. But Eskel’s face made him stand out as someone to be feared or respected, or feared _and_ respected.

Sometimes the easiest answer was the one people expected the least. “I guess most people do. My scars are my geas so they have great meaning to me and I wouldn’t get rid of them.” 

Geralt really didn’t quite understand what that meant but he’d talked enough idly with Rhys and Duncan about how adepts functioned. How they channeled their magic through their bodies to gain their superhuman strength, speed, and healing. Both him and Eskel were registered as adepts here and it fit them well. It wasn’t even that far from the truth really. Aiming to turn the mood light, Geralt smirked at Rhys. “And if you’re good looking enough and you bite me, I’m not getting rid of that mark.”

***

Rhys laughed and gave Geralt's hand a squeeze. "I'm glad you didn't. It looks quite nice on you." 

Jenga nodded at Geralt's answer. "Ok, fair point. And you carry them well, too. It suits you." He didn't ask any more questions and focused on his work again. Since the shop was well regarded in the magical community, Jenga was used to people who would rather not talk about what they did for a living. It was better not to ask too many questions.

The low monotonous sound of the needle wandering over Geralt's skin filled the silence between them before they returned to making idle chit chat, turning the conversation to less potentially dangerous topics.

Finally, Jenga was done. "Alright, you can go take a look. There's a big mirror there," he pointed across the room and handed Geralt a smaller one so he could see the tattoo without having to do gymnastics. 

Rhys trailed Geralt on the way to the mirror, watching the way the tattoo shifted when Geralt moved his arms. He was sure Eskel would like it. It was striking on Geralt's skin and would be even when the ink had settled and was not quite as vibrant.

***

Turning his back to the large mirror Geralt was about to turn and look over his shoulder when Rhys sidled right up next to him. Leaning in close Rhys arranged the smaller mirror in his hands, smiling at Geralt in it, eyes connecting until they could see the elegant E and wolf’s head. The black ink had a slight shine on top of it, the contrast between the scrolling ebony and Geralt’s ivory skin stark.

Geralt couldn’t help but grin. Finally, he had something permanent to show that he was Eskel’s too. It stood out much more obviously the large bite mark on his shoulder or the daintier one Rhys had left around his right nipple, and somehow he didn’t think that would bother Eskel at all.

“I think he’ll love it. I know I do.” Geralt waited patiently for Jenga to put a thin clear covering on it. It stuck right to his skin, and he kept his amusement at how convenient such a thing would be on the Path to himself. 

Putting his shirt pack on with ease, Geralt was mindful not to disturb the impossibly thin bandage. Paying Jenga, Geralt was proud of himself. After only a few days of being out and about with Duncan he was already getting the hang of transferring credits from his commlink. It might not be second nature like gold and silver but he was confident enough that he didn’t feel the need to have Rhys do it for him.

“I’m shocked that you're not going to add even a tiny one. Surely you have space somewhere.” The smirk was back as Geralt laughed at Rhys. “An ant maybe?” 

Geralt probably shouldn’t be encouraging Rhys and he knew it but he hadn’t seen Rhys so relaxed in a while. Tattoos, art, animals, and plants. These were things Geralt knew Rhys loved with a passion.

***

"I was thinking a jumping spider. Or I could start on my legs, but then I'm committed to a lot of tattoos again. And I'm not sure I really want that." Rhys had hugged Jenga to say goodbye and now stepped out into the street with Geralt.

After a moment's hesitation, Rhys took Geralt's hand. Just a light touch with his fingers at first and when Geralt opened his hand, Rhys took and held it. He had been hesitant about being this casually close with Geralt ever since their first time together. Rhys had pushed Geralt into safewording out of a scene by accident then. While they obviously had managed to salvage not only the scene but had gone out of it with a good relationship, Rhys had always kept a little more distance from Geralt.

"Are you up for a detour before we go home?" Rhys decided that they needed to talk about this, now. Geralt looked at him curiously but didn't ask. He was content with making idle chitchat while Rhys led him to a park and a bench under a sprawling old oak, with a carpet of bluebells under it, some bright yellow daffodils sprinkled among them.

Rhys sat and pulled one leg up under himself so he could turn sideways and look at Geralt. He still kept a hold on Geralt's hand, to reassure himself.

"When we first played and we had to stop the scene, I let Duncan hug you and hold you because I didn't want to step over any more boundaries by getting too close in that moment. And somehow, that distance carried over and I think you're a little intimidated by me sometimes?" With a smile, he squeezed Geralt's hand.

"I don't want this _wall_ between us. I want to hold your hand and cuddle with you and I would love to have sex with you, if you want. I don't want you to submit to me, I don't think we do well together there. But outside of that, I want more than it's now." Holding his breath, he waited for Geralt to speak.

***

Taking a minute to process what Rhys said and what he meant by it, Geralt smiled at him. "I'm not scared of _you_. As a person. I never have been, and I did wonder why you sort of held yourself back from me more and more over time."

Giving Rhys' hand a firm squeeze, Geralt explained. "You're right. Submitting to you intimidates me. I don't think we match up well there. What you like to give and what I like to get aren't the same. And when you didn't reach out and offer me physical comfort like Duncan it made me wonder if you cared as much. But as soon as I touched you, it was answered for me. Because you touched me back and didn't shy away from me afterward."

"And since then I have never wondered. I was under the impression if you wanted to cuddle me or kiss me or have sex we would, it just hadn't happened yet. I can think of lots of ways I'd _like_ to have sex with you though." Tugging on Rhys' hand Geralt beamed at him. "I wouldn't even say no to you kissing me right here on a park bench."

***

Relief rushed through Rhys at Geralt's words and he let out the breath he had been holding. "I'm glad. I've been regretting not coming to hold you back then right away ever since and it's been eating away at me."

He moved closer and cupped Geralt's face, traced the line of his cheekbones with a thumb. This first kiss was just as light as the first touch to Geralt's hand earlier. When Geralt responded, Rhys leaned in to kiss him more deeply, moved his hand into Geralt's hair.

Duncan has been telling Rhys to talk to Geralt for a while now and Rhys had hesitated. Exactly why was beyond him right now. A weight he had been carrying around with him just fell away and left Rhys lighthearted.

***

Kissing Rhys back, Geralt smiled into it. He had wondered a bit in the back of his mind why Rhys held himself at a distance, and how that distance seemed to grow and grow. The kiss snapped the distance closed like a bowstring coming back to its resting position. Rather than ask Rhys why he’d waited so long to ask, Geralt decided to savor the moment and move on.

Coming up for air Geralt scooted closer, took his hand out of Rhys, and put his arm low around Rhys’ waist. With a hand on Rhys’ hip he pulled Rhys flush with himself until they touched from knee to shoulder. Rhys gave a startled noise at the display, not _quite_ a squeak, and Geralt ignored it as if nothing had happened.

“I don’t think you need to regret anything. I learned a lot about myself from that. A lot about what’s,” Geralt looked up at the leaves on the tree above them while he searched for the right word, “right? How someone should treat you. In that type of relationship. From what happened.” Giving Rhys a quick kiss on the jaw Geralt smiled. “For the record if it ever happens again I want you to cuddle me, but I don’t think it will.”

“And I can think of _all_ kinds of ways for us to have sex that don’t involve me submitting to you. Alone or with our other halves. I don’t get a lot of regular sex anymore, so that’s one if you don’t mind that.” Dropping his voice low so no one but Rhys could possibly hear Geralt put his lips against Rhys ear and shared a few of his more elaborate thoughts.

“I would love to let you hurt me, if Eskel ordered it, as long as he was in charge of it and not you. The cane is something Eskel would never use and I did like that kind of pain. Or have you join me and Duncan when we play around with me as his whore. We act out scenes where Eskel has loaned me out to him.” Geralt swallowed, already aroused by the thought of bringing Rhys back into these intimate areas.

***

"Mmhm." Rhys gave an involuntary shiver at Geralt's words, imagination immediately running with all the possibilities. 

"I would like all of that. And yes, I do like vanilla sex. Regular sex. Duncan and I tend to default to at least some kind of power exchange even when we don't play. Or just fall into roleplaying. I enjoy that but I also would enjoy just making out with you." Rhys pressed his forehead against Geralt's, looking into his golden eyes. Relief had been pushed into the background by excitement for their plans and he saw the same excitement in Geralt.

Hand still curled in Geralt's hair, Rhys scritched through the stubble of the undercut. "I would love to see what kind of roleplay we can come up with Duncan."

***

Laughing easily, Geralt smiled at Rhys. “Let’s start with the making out, work back up to all the other things I’ve thought of. But I think we could really enjoy ourselves with the roleplay, I guess you call it. Me, you, and Duncan. We enjoy that a lot, even alone, it’s something I didn’t get to do much of before and I really love it.”

“And… I like this a lot too. Just being able to show affection in public, holding hands, a kiss, an arm around your waist.” Geralt gave Rhys’ waist an affectionate squeeze to drive his point home. “You’re always welcome to do this kind of thing if you're in the mood.”

“We should head back though. I want to show Eskel his surprise.” When Rhys gave Geralt a look at that statement, Geralt clarified. “Oh he knows I was going to get a tattoo to remind me of him. I wasn’t lying when I said I'd asked him if it was alright. But I think he was expecting something a little more plain. From the Continent.” 

Grinning Geralt stood and pulled Rhys to his feet. “And when it didn’t happen right away, I think he may have thought I had given the idea up. I’m not exactly known for my patience, you know. But this had to be special, elegant like Eskel— _perfect_.”

***

"You? Impatient? I wouldn't have thought." With a giggle, Rhys let himself be pulled up and into a last hug before turning to walk towards home.

At home, they were greeted by Duncan who was just putting away groceries in the kitchen. A bowl on the table held a little pyramid of oranges, with a pile of vegetables and dried sausages next to it. 

Duncan stored a package of fish in the fridge and came to kiss both Geralt and Rhys. "Eskel's taking a bath. You two look like you had fun."

Rhys leaned into him, letting go of Geralt's hand with a last squeeze. "We did. I've decided I want another tattoo."

"Of course you did. You always do when you go see Jenga, ever noticed that?" Duncan rolled his eyes but he didn't mean his exasperation. 

They were too busy with their playful bickering to really notice Geralt slipping away to find Eskel and with the groceries all put away, they curled up on the couch together. Rhys sat with his back to Duncan, letting him take apart Rhys' braid and brush out the hair. 

"So. You finally talked." It wasn't a question from Duncan.

"Mmh." Rhys had his eyes closed, enjoying the gentle tugs on his hair. "We did. You were right, I was worrying too much."

"Of course I was right." Duncan leaned forward to place a kiss on Rhys' neck. He let the hair fall open, admiring the rich, soft sheen it had in the sunlight, ran his palm over it. "You want it braided again?"

Rhys shook his head, letting himself fall back into Duncan's arms. "Leave it like this." He nosed into Duncan's neck. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

***

Geralt wandered silently down the hall and into the bedroom. It was empty, so that must mean Eskel was still in the tub. Opening the connecting door to the bathroom with an unobtrusive click Geralt peeked in.

Eskel was immersed in the huge troll-sized tub, eyes closed, dark mahogany hair spread around his head like an algae bloom. Only his face and here and there bits of his body protruded from the water, like volcanic islands on a reef. A knee, a wrist, his limp cock. His toes and half of one foot pressed to the edge of the tub.

Leaning against the door frame Geralt watched Eskel. Gods he was gorgeous, though he’d never believe it. The corners of Eskel’s lips twitched up the slightest bit and his fingers swished in the water. The well practiced motions of Igni reheating his water.

Finally Eskel opened his eyes, breaking into a full smile. “Hey you.” Sitting up, Eskel sent the water sloshing. “There’s definitely room for two in here.”

“Mmhm. I see that. But no baths for me for a few days. Jenga’s orders.” Uncrossing his arms, Geralt walked over and sat on the edge of the tub.

Eskel gave him a quizzical look. “Who’s Jenga? An’ why does he have a say in whether or not you bathe?”

Tucking a few wet strands of Eskel’s hair behind his ear, Geralt ran the back of his hand down Eskel’s scars. “Jenga is the ork who did my tattoo.” He grinned at the way Eskel’s eyebrows shot up and the one that always lagged a little lower. “I told you I was going to get something, a permanent mark of yours to go with the other two.”

“Oh.” It was almost inaudible, even to Geralt. “Can I see.”

“Mmhm. Of course, it’s yours. But you have to get out of the tub first.” Standing up Geralt searched out a towel, presented it to Eskel who was already standing outside the tub, dripping naked on the mat. Geralt couldn’t resist inching closer to steal a kiss from Eskel’s mouth while he dried off. Then he strolled out into the bedroom.

Peeling off his shirt Geralt laid face down in the middle of the bed and waited for Eskel to come into the bedroom.

***

Eskel had known Geralt wanted to get a tattoo. He’d given his approval after all. But he’d assumed Geralt would just go to Novigrad or Cintra, at the most wait until a trip to Skellige because the sailors there were slightly better known for their skill.

It wasn’t that Eskel was bothered by the idea, in fact if he was honest with himself he _loved_ the idea of Geralt having a permanent mark on his body that claimed him as Eskel’s along with the orks. Eskel just wasn’t willing to mar Geralt himself to achieve it. 

But when it hadn’t happened a month ago, Eskel has assumed Geralt had lost interest in the idea. Knowing that the Continent didn’t have the most eye-catching tattoos, nothing like what Rhys sported. It had never occurred to him that Geralt might be patiently biding his time. That was something Geralt wasn’t good at, at all. That he had done so almost meant more than the tattoo itself.

When Eskel padded out into the bedroom he stopped stock still. Geralt was laid out on the bed, in his leather pants, shirtless, and face down. On his back, in between his shoulderblades, and easily as tall as them, was a large swirling capital E in shiny ebony ink. Where the quill stroke would have started the E morphed into a wolf’s head made of large, thick, black lines. Curving in some places and yet geometric in others.

It was breathtaking. And it was his.

Geralt had branded his body with Eskel’s mark forever. Eskel's heartbeat ran away in his chest. Crawling up on the bed Eskel laid over him naked, scarred cheek pressed warm against Geralt’s shoulderblade. He ran a finger lightly over the thin clear covering. Could feel the heat of it as it worked to heal. Incorporating the ink forever into Geralt’s skin.

“I love it. I love you.” Eskel blinked hard, fighting the urge to cry. Instead he ran a hand up along Geralt’s and held it. Breathed in the scent of his lover—the chemical tang of whatever had been put in his skin with the bandage, clean soap, and an underlying hint of bourbon and juniper. The blade oil had faded already.

Eskel stayed with Geralt on the bed, cuddling and talking until there was a soft knock at the door. Lazily he drug himself away and opened the door a crack to find Duncan. “Clay pot chicken for dinner. Whenever you two wanna join us.” The happy look on Duncan’s face told Eskel they hadn’t been missed too much.

***

When the witchers trooped into the kitchen, Rhys was just putting the finishing touches to setting the table. Duncan glanced over and grinned at how content and relaxed the two of them looked and how easily they moved around and with Rhys. Exchanging little touches and kisses, a few soft words.

Geralt came up to Duncan to see what was for dinner, a quick touch to Duncan's back to announce he was there. Working quickly and with a routine he had acquired over the last couple of years, Duncan filled their bowls and sent Geralt to the table with the first two. He followed with the rest and joined the others at the kitchen table.

Picking up a pair of chopsticks, Duncan pointed at his bowl. "Chicken, salted fish, sausage, scallion and this is a kind of cabbage. The white stuff is rice, it's a sort of grain."

"Uh-" Geralt held up his chopsticks, raised a questioning eyebrow. 

Reaching for his hand, Duncan showed him how to hold the chopsticks. "Like this. Try grabbing one of the chicken pieces."

Rhys did the same for Eskel and coached him through holding and moving the sticks, using them to pick up clumps of rice or meat. They had provided forks but both Eskel and Geralt stuck with their chopsticks even though it was slow going at first. 

Geralt's hold slipped and a piece of chicken hurled itself across the table, only stopped by Rhys quick reflexes. Rhys dropped it in his bowl and licked off his palm. "It's mine now, that's the rule."

***

Eskel laughed out loud, low and velvety. Mind straying to indecent images immediately at the sight of Rhys’ tongue licking the skin of his hand. Forcing himself to remain indifferent to the distraction, Eskel watched Duncan’s hand. Then Rhys’. He opened his fingers and stretched his own hand to relax the muscles there. They each seemed to be holding their chopsticks such a loose, undemanding grip.

Posing his fingers around the thin sticks again Eskel tried to nab a bit of rice with a slice of scallion on top. He kept his fingers loose, barely putting any pressure on the food. Grinning at his success he started to lift the chopsticks up to his mouth, only for the rice to fall out the bottom and leave him with a squinchy bite of steamed scallion.

Harrumphing, Eskel tried again with only slightly more pressure and hummed happily when he succeeded in getting a clump of rice and bit of scallion to his mouth this time.

“I think the trick’s to not try an’ choke your food with ‘em, Geralt.” Waggling the sticks at Geralt, Eskel smirked. “Loosen your grip, like a throwin’ knife.”

Eskel watched Geralt as he squeezed a piece of fish between his chopsticks until it nearly buckled, rushing it to his mouth in time to save it. “You’ll get it.” Returning to his own bowl, Eskel was somewhat miffed to find he still only succeeded two thirds of the time. Cabbage was by far the easiest and rice the hardest.

“I like the whole idea of cookin’ it all together in one pot. We haven’ got rice but I bet peas, or barley would work for this too. Could use it on the Path, throw a fish, hare, or bird in there. It’d be pretty tasty.” Loading his chopsticks up with a bite of rice and a piece of sausage Eskel maneuvered it very carefully within range of Geralt.

Geralt struck quickly, taking the food right off the tip of Eskel’s chopsticks into his mouth happily. It wasn’t that Eskel wasn’t hungry still or that he didn’t like the food, because he was serious—it was good and he might try making it on the Path. It was that he knew there was a delicious dessert covered in whipped topping that he and Duncan had put together earlier and set to freeze up. And he wanted to save room for that. Lots of room.

He was well aware it wasn’t _good_ for him. Especially when he couldn’t train. But he didn’t care, he wanted to indulge and if that meant sharing the rest of his food he was perfectly fine with that. Also he’d seen the pile of oranges Duncan had brought back, and he was intent on making a few of them breakfast tomorrow.

***

Rhys sat back and watched, enjoying both the food and the company immensely. Chewing slowly on his pilfered piece of chicken, he smiled to himself as Duncan got up and brought back a rubberband to wrap around the ends of Geralt's chopsticks. It improved Geralt's food intake immediately.

Eskel had a look on his face that told Rhys he was considering chopsticks and rubberbands in a very different context. Under the table, Rhys gave a kick to Eskel's ankle and an innocent smile when Eskel turned to him. He inclined his head towards the bound chopsticks and raised an eyebrow at Eskel. The resulting guilty look and grin made Rhys laugh out loud, Eskel joining him.

They were both laughing too hard to keep eating, drawing confused looks from the others until first Geralt and then Duncan figured it out. 

"You are such idiots." Duncan's mock disapproval couldn't hide his affection. He did use the distraction to steal chicken and sausage from Rhys' bowl for himself and Geralt with two quick forays across the table. Rhys retaliated and soon they all were engaged in a reckless battle across one table and four bowls. Eskel and Rhys lost spectacularly against the combined forces and chopstick acrobatics of Duncan and Geralt, forfeiting possession of all their chicken quickly.

Collecting the empty bowls, Rhys got up to get dessert. He stood, savoring the moment of them all together, astral space alight with emotions. Gold shone on rich green, like sunlight dappling leaves. The colors pulsed and flashed as they all talked and laughed back and forth, comfortable in the net of their relationships. With a smile, Rhys came back to normal space to take his place at the table again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Info:  
> Tattoos/needles  
> Fluff


	6. Bearsday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Oh! I know. Let’s play Lambert’s game! Never have I ever…” Sitting back up far faster than his body was ready for Geralt held onto the couch for a second to steady himself and then refilled his own glass and topped off Eskel’s._  
>  A serious conversation and a whole lot of alcohol.

Duncan settled on the couch with a sigh, all chores done for the day. Rhys and Eskel had chosen to go out for ice cream and a trip to the Heath despite the light drizzle of rain.

Geralt and Duncan had opted for staying in, reading and cuddling. The door to the balcony had been open while they cleaned the breakfast table and the air in the apartment still smelled like rain, sweet after the warmth of the last few days. 

Watching Geralt wander through the living room, examining the plants and knick knacks on the shelves, Duncan didn't feel a need to make conversation. Except once to warn Geralt away from a bonsai bearing two cherry like fruits because those might explode any day now. Rhys really needed to harvest them, Duncan didn't have any desire to get needled by sharp seeds _again_.

In front of the shelf where Rhys kept his art supplies, sketchbooks and novels and Duncan kept the soapstone sculptures he had made and _his_ books, Geralt stopped. He put his head to one side at the teddy bear with the scuffed fur and the little tusks protruding from its snout.

"That's Winston. He's a toy, like a doll?" Duncan had no idea if the Continent had teddy bears but somehow he doubted it.

***

“A doll.” Geralt repeated it to himself. He’d come across dolls on the Path. “I’ve found those before. Sometimes I can sell them to a merchant for a few coins, otherwise their only use is to take apart for string and thread. No point in carrying the weight around for very long.”

Geralt had noted the tiny tusks poking out from the bear’s snout, clearly it was meant to represent an ork. It was cute in a strange way and he wondered why it was here. Why it had a _name_. The orks weren’t children, to play with toys.

Coming to sit next to Duncan on the couch Geralt swung his legs up over Duncan’s lap, laying back against the armrest. “I admit I’ve never seen a doll in the shape of a bear. With little ork tusks, even.” Geralt gave Duncan a little smile. “He must be different, special. For him to be here where there are no children?”

 _How silly_ , Geralt thought to himself. _I am talking about a toy like it’s sentient. A man or something. Only because Duncan told me his name was Winston._

But then again, Duncan had introduced Winston by name and that meant something to Geralt. There were stranger things in the orks' apartment. Like the exploding bonsai he’d almost examined a little too closely earlier.

***

"They're called teddy bears and a lot of people have them, growing up. But not many are ork bears." Duncan grinned and gave Winston a fond look. There still was some of the pride there he had had as a kid when he had been the only one who had an ork teddy. And tusks, they had broken through for him earlier than for any other kid at school.

"He's mine, my mom made him for me when I was a kid. I had lost him for a while, along with everything else in my life. But Rhys found him again and gave him back to me - I'm still not exactly sure how he managed to track him down." Duncan shifted closer so he could stick a hand under Geralt's shirt and pet his stomach.

He drummed a short rhythm on Geralt's skin while he tried to figure out how much to tell. "I have nothing else left from my family. They all died when I was just a kid. And I held on to Winston through a lot of shit that happened. Not the most cheerful story - we can talk about something else if you want."

***

Petting Duncan's forearm back Geralt glanced at Winston. "No. It's alright. Not all important stories are happy. I want to know yours, it's important to me."

Geralt looked into Duncan's eyes briefly, then focused on running his fingers up and down Duncan's forearm. Sifting the hairs there softly. He let the quiet stretch on, not worried about it.

***

Duncan stretched out next to Geralt, propped up on one elbow so he could keep petting him. He was once again glad they had spend the money on a frankly gigantic couch, after many cricked necks and numb limbs. With his fingertips drawing circles on Geralt's stomach, he gathered his words.

"I still don't know what exactly happened, but when I was six, my parents were murdered. Shot by someone, maybe about drugs. Maybe they had pissed someone off. We lived in a slum, these things happen." He shrugged. There still was anger about this in him but not nearly as much as there used to be.

"My sister got me out of the house, grabbed some clothes and ran with me. And Winston. We hid and she tried to take care of me as best as she could. Not like we could go to the cops - we were SINless. We didn't have any rights. No one cared. She found a job, earned some money. And then one day she was gone. Didn't come back." Duncan paused and swallowed down the pain telling this brought. It sat in his stomach, a small sickly hot ball.

Petting Geralt for a bit without talking helped. "I'm sure she is dead. That she got killed somehow. Mugged and killed, maybe. Or shot by accident - there were a lot of dangerous gangs in the area. Or shot by the cops. Or just an accident. I don't know. All I know is that she never came back and I had to make it on my own. But I kept Winston around for all of it. Maybe as a reminder that this is not how it's supposed to go."

"I met my brother during that time, we ran together as street kids. Saved each other's lives too many times to count. Got taken in by our dad eventually. Things got better after that. I had a pretty normal life for a while. Until my dad disappeared. My brother and me followed him to Hong Kong and right after arriving, our SINs were gone, the cops were looking for us and everything went to shit." _That_ one still carried hot anger with it, at the ease with which his whole life had been just swept away. Again.

Duncan nosed into Geralt's neck, took a couple of deep breaths. "That was not a good time for me. But I did meet Rhys there. Obviously, things got better. And some day, Rhys found out about Winston. Leave it to a bear shaman to find a lost teddy bear." 

He gave a soft laugh, leaned on his elbow again. "So yeah, that's the story of why I have my teddy bear sitting in the living room."

***

Geralt was glad Duncan had laid down with him. He’d wanted to invite Duncan down next to him; to be able to pet Duncan back more solidly and offer him some comfort. But Geralt had held back out of some sense of not wanting to come across as pitying, or make Duncan feel less in control of the situation. So when Duncan settled in next to him, Geralt took advantage, immediately running his hand up under Duncan’s shirt to lazily stroke his flank.

Listening to Duncan tell his story, and the story of Winston by extension, Geralt remained quiet. When Duncan lulled and merely petted his stomach to collect himself Geralt let him. Didn’t urge him on or tell him to stop. It was Duncan’s story and it would come at Duncan’s pace.

“Winston is some bear, to have gone through all of that with you. Rhys has his ways I imagine.” Laying his head against Duncan’s chest Geralt listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady. “It might not be the cheeriest story but it has a happy ending at least. I know they were shitty, but if you hadn’t gone through all those things you went through, you wouldn’t be the same person you are today. And I like who you are. A lot.”

***

Duncan hugged Geralt to himself, squeezing hard for a second. "I'm mostly okay with it. Considering where it brought me. I used to be much more pissed at at all of this happening. Every damn time I had crawled out of the hole, life kicked me back. But you're right."

"Can't help but wonder what might have been. Who I would be. Not out of regret, don't have much of that. Just curiosity." Duncan shrugged again, it was never something he indulged in for long.

"Do you ever do this?" He looked down at Geralt, reached up to caress his face. "Think about where you would have ended up? What happened with you anyway, I never asked that?"

***

The gentle touch felt nice on his face, reminded Geralt that maybe Duncan cared about his own story just as much as he had cared about knowing Duncan’s. He didn’t like to talk about this, with anyone really, not even Eskel. Not the part about growing up in Kaer Morhen. But about all the things he could have known and didn’t, could have been and wasn’t.

“What happened with me?” Geralt sighed. And then smiled. _Start with the beginning_ , he reminded himself. “Would you believe I used to be a redhead?” Giving a soft laugh Geralt let himself drift back to his earliest years at Kaer Morhen.

“With an attitude to match according to Vesemir. He was our swordsmanship trainer, but really he became like a surrogate father, especially after the attack on our keep that killed almost all of us. Only me, Eskel, Lambert and him survived, and only Vesemir was actually there.” Geralt forced himself to loosen up, he’d tightened up at that memory without even noticing. “But that was later.”

“In the beginning, I didn’t remember coming to the keep I was so young, probably only three or four. That’s how it is for _most_ witchers. I grew up like any witcher. A wooden sword, tossing pine cones around as bombs, until I could handle real steel in a couple of years. In January when we all turned nine, we started our first Trial—The Choice. It wasn’t really a choice though, I got to drink the mutagens with all the others and train until I puked. Often children are lost to liver or heart failure then. It culls the weak. The next January everyone turned ten and the real horror started. The Grasses.” Rolling up against Duncan, Geralt wormed his arm under Duncan’s neck, laid his head in the cradle of his arm and Duncan’s neck, and just breathed for a moment.

In and out. Not looking at anything in particular. Finally when he was ready Geralt continued. “I was strapped down to a metal table we called Sad Albert, given the Trial of the Grasses like everyone else. No reason to go into the details, it’s as bad as turning into an ork or troll. You get the speed, strength, reflexes, all that. Only days later when I was still alive and most of the rest were dead, they strapped me down and did it again. They liked to try and improve their formula every once in a while, and since I did so _well_ with the first round… I was chosen for more. From then on I was special.” 

There was bitterness in Geralt’s voice that he couldn’t mask now. “When I came out of the second one, it wasn’t just my brown eyes that were gone. Turned into cat’s eyes like everyone else. But my hair had gone white and my skin was even paler than before. Everyone would always know I was different, just looking at me from a distance, even among other witchers.” Geralt let his hand wander up Duncan’s flank, around his back, thumb aimlessly stroking there.

“Anyway. Then a few years later, another January, another trial. The Dreams. It’s bad, but no different. Messes with your marrow so you can heal faster, your hormones, better night vision. Makes you sterile. A few more die. And then just before your second decade they send you up The Mountain. Most survive that, it’s more a final test than a real trial. You get your medallion and off you go. You’re a real witcher then.” Geralt smirked into Duncan’s neck and relaxed back onto the couch.

Looking up at Duncan he smiled. “Eskel was a year ahead of me and we always stuck together. Even then. Caused all kinds of shit. And as we got older,” Geralt shrugged with a knowing smile, “well you know how it is. And Gods Vesemir got on us.” Shaking his head at the memories, Geralt laughed. “I think he was sure we were gonna get ourselves pitchforked as soon as we left the keep, always reeking of sex.”

“It was hard though when I left for the Path. I saw how right Vesemir was. How much people didn’t accept it. Eskel and I, we drifted apart in that way. But we came back together. We never can stay apart long.” The hand behind Duncan’s neck found the short hairs at the base of his mohawk and started carding through them.

“I got injured badly once—my leg—and was taken in by a sorceress who healed me. It was my _mother_ , the woman who had brought me Kaer Morhen as a child. I was delirious, but I begged her for answers. Why she left me. I begged her to stay. To talk to me. But she healed me, gave me medicine to put me to sleep and left me again. I don’t even know if she is survived all the pogroms and witch hunters. Maybe she’s dead now. I’ll never know, and I’ll never know why she left me there or what I would have been if I hadn’t been left to be changed into a witcher. So no. I don’t ever think about where I would have ended up. It makes me angry and there is nothing I can do to change it. I was one witcher who could have known my mother, who wouldn’t have outlived her, and she wouldn’t even talk to me.” Closing his eyes and letting out a rough sigh, Geralt took a moment to compose himself.

There was hot anger there he hadn’t expected. He didn’t talk about Visenna with anyone but Eskel and even with Eskel it was rare. “I’m sorry. I am still angry about it. You know a lot of the rest. Eskel and I were split up when you first met me. Because I met a woman named Yennefer. I loved her, a little too hard and a lot to quick. And I made the biggest mistake of all—I didn’t talk to Eskel about it first, or her for that matter.”

“At the same time Ciri, my Surprise Child came into my life. So Yen and I were off and on for a while. And everyone sort of raised Ciri together. Me, Yen, her Uncle Eskel and Lambert. Vesemir was like a grandpa to her. We were one big family. But I wasn’t happy because I wasn’t with Eskel. We sorted it out though. The long and hard way. But we did. Vesemir died saving Ciri from the Wild Hunt. The keep was destroyed in the battle. They are—they’d like to think they’re a superior race of elves—but really they are just some elves that left our world a long time ago. Stuck up, poncy, assholes who like war and slaves.” The face Geralt made clearly signaled his lack of love for the Aen Elle. 

“Then I retired. Mostly. Now I spend my time growing grapes, making wine, fighting the occasional archespore.” Geralt grinned widely and rose up to kiss Duncan’s lips briefly. “Taking trips to new places. Like London. What else is there?”

***

Duncan turned on his back and pulled Geralt with him so he came to lie on top of Duncan. Stuffing a cushion behind his head so he could look at Geralt without straining his neck, Duncan answered the grin.

"Not a bad ending for a story either, at all. I'm glad it brought you here." He smoothed Geralt's shirt down with his palms, then stuck his hand under it again. "No need to apologize for being angry. Honestly, it makes _me_ angry, hearing about your mother. I can understand giving your child away, it happens and maybe it's even the best thing you can do. No one does that just because they're bored of their kid. But running away from you again? That's fucked up."

"Where's Ciri now?" Duncan had heard about her here and there, from both Eskel and Geralt, but never details.

***

Hearing Duncan say it so casually Geralt felt reassured, but there were times when he had wondered if Visenna hadn’t partly been motivated by feeling burdened or boredom. Sorceresses had started forcing sterilization not long after in order to encourage apprentices to focus on their learning. Perhaps his mother had felt he was holding her back. The questions burned at Geralt because he would never know the answers now.

All that anger was pushed aside though when he laughed out loud at Duncan’s last question. Somehow Geralt had forgotten that Duncan probably didn’t even know some major things about his daughter. “You know about Nilfgaard, the black ones? Well Ciri, her biological father is the Emperor of Nilfgaard.” 

Geralt waited a beat for that to sink in. “Yeah, a lowly witcher with an actual princess for a daughter. She is such a good girl too. Smart as an alchemist, but will tear you apart like a nekker if you hurt someone she cares about.” The pride was evident in Geralt’s voice and the grin on his face. “You would like her. And she would like you because you make me happy.”

“She chose to fake her own death. I don’t think she was ever truly sure of the Emperor’s motives and I can’t blame her. It’s a complicated past with them. He’s tried to kidnap her before. So when he wanted her to come back to court and didn’t consider her opinion in the matter important, it didn’t sit well with her. She wanted to _help_ people on her own terms.” Geralt played his fingers through Duncan’s mohawk, ruffling his hair and smiling.

“So I did what any good dad would do. I told him she was dead. She walks the Path now. She’s not a witcher with mutations. But her magic is stronger and she can take care of herself. I am proud of her. I hope you do meet her someday.” Eyes twinkling and still grinning Geralt nuzzled into Duncan’s neck. Duncan was still stroking his back and it felt good. He liked talking about Ciri. No matter how unprepared he’d been for fatherhood, he had done well with her. And she had taught him so much.

***

"I would like that." Duncan grinned. "I've met vampire and ghouls and demons but never an actual princess. Especially not one that chose to be a witcher instead."

"There were a couple of times where I would have liked to just walk away from Raymond. My dad. We did not get along, a lot of the time. Too similar. But he took me and Echo in and he stuck with us even when we fucked up, and fucked up again. Can't walk away from that." Talking about Raymond wasn't something Duncan did, ever. It led to very dark places he'd rather not go to. But curled up wit Geralt, his comforting weight on Duncan's chest, he didn't mind taking a few steps down that road.

***

Hand wandering under the hem of Duncan’s shirt Geralt breathed in the clean scent of his skin. “I’ve got a vampire friend—his name is Regis. But I mean it, I would like for you to meet Ciri, Rhys too. Maybe next time you come to Corvo Bianco I can try and get a message to her. See if she’ll come visit us for dinner. She can portal anywhere. Hells, she could portal to your living room here if she knew the time and place. So it would be easy for her.”

Geralt didn’t hear Duncan talk about Echo much, or Raymond ever. “Echo is your brother right? The troll? Must have been impressive having someone who could kick your ass as a teenager.” Smirking, Geralt suppressed a tiny laugh at the idea of Duncan hanging out with someone who was bigger and stronger all the time.

“I had a few instructors I wished I could have walked away from. But then someone stirred up the peasants against us. Sorcerers they say. A book was written about how wicked witchers were, and eventually some sorcerers came with a small army of villagers. Portaled them right to our gates in the winter when all the witchers were home, resting up and training.” Geralt closed his eyes against the memory of Vesemir on his knees amongst the bodies. Of everyone dead and Gweld’s broken body.

“As much as I may have hated them for what they did to me, or how hard they made me work and train. I would give almost anything to have them back.” Sighing with a little bit of frustration Geralt continued. “I agree with Eskel that it’s better than no one knows how to make a new witcher now, but I wish we could have gotten here a different way is all.”

Having never heard of Raymond before Geralt wondered if he was dead as well. They’d met Rhys’ parents but Duncan’s weren’t discussed and he could guess there were reasons why. Duncan’s life hadn’t been as fortunate as Rhys’. “Is Raymond gone now? I’ve never heard you talk about him and I don’t think you finally chose to walk away after all that. You’re not that kind of person.” Resting his hand on Duncan’s cheek Geralt listened to his heartbeat. Strong and steady in his chest, full of life.

***

"Yeah, he's gone." It was tempting to just leave it at that. Pretend Raymond was dead. Geralt wouldn't ask. But that would have been too much like betraying Raymond to Duncan.

"Not like you think. I-- It's a long story, but Raymond, Echo and I got drawn into a conspiracy. It's what happened in Hong Kong. At the end of it, we found out that a powerful demon was trying to come into this world. And Raymond offered himself up as a sacrifice to stop it. The demon took him and still has him." Duncan gave a long sigh, the guilt about it as fresh as it had ever been. 

He turned his face into Geralt's palm and gave him a squeeze, reassuring himself. "I still haven't found a way to get him back. The demon is much too powerful to fight. There needs to be a trick. Something we can do that doesn't involve fighting and dying on some metaplane. I don't know." With his eyes closed, Duncan just breathed. He didn't feel like saying more, wouldn't have known what.

***

Geralt rose, scooting up Duncan’s body. With his hand still on Duncan’s cheek and Duncan’s face still pressed into it Geralt bent down to kiss his other cheekbone. Resting his cheek against Duncan’s he curled his arm around the top of Duncan’s head and simply laid with him. There was nothing Geralt could say to make this kind of anguish better and he knew it.

There had been a time when Yennefer had been taken by the Wild Hunt and Geralt had gone so far as to exchange himself in her place, all in the hopes of keeping her safe. He understood maybe better than Duncan knew what it was like to both make the choice of such a sacrifice knowing you wouldn’t come back, as well as what it was like to be saved from it by a child who loved you. 

But this was not the time to say anything of the sort. This was Duncan’s time. So Geralt only laid close with him for a long time in silence, offering the only kind of comfort that might make Duncan feel better for laying this bare.

Eventually, when Duncan’s breathing had slowed, finding a balanced rhythm that didn’t sound as strained in his chest Geralt spoke. “It sounds like Raymond was a good man. That he helped you a lot even if you didn’t agree on things and I’m sorry he’s lost to you right now.” 

Kissing the pointed shell of Duncan’s ear Geralt whispered almost silently into it. “I’m selfish too, and I don’t want you to die in some other world. So please wait until you do know—how to trick this demon—and ask us for help if you need it.”

***

"Don't worry, I'm not about to do something stupid. Or maybe I am, but not without a plan. I don't intend to die there." Pushing himself up, Duncan leaned into the armrest of the couch and stuffed some pillows behind his back until he was comfortable, with Geralt still lying on top of him.

"Raymond was-- _is_ complicated. I only figured out just how complicated in Hong Kong, when his past came back to bite us all. And I did _not like what I found. At least I made my peace with it and him before--" Duncan shook his head, unwilling to go into this again._

_"I think I'm talked out about this. I'm glad I got to tell you and that you listened. And I'm glad you told me about you. But what do you say: I go and see if there's still ginger orks left, make some tea and then we find out what Dr Jekyll is up to?" The conversation had left him exhausted, but not in a bad way. Keeping it all to himself all the time maybe wasn't the best decision._

__

***

“Mmm I think that sounds like a great idea. I’m claiming you lap again while you read to me though.” Geralt smiled at Duncan softly. “I am truly glad you told me about yourself, but there’s no sense worrying about something that has no answer yet. Let’s set it aside for now and cuddle up with our monster story.”

After the bookstore Duncan had kept his word and started to read one of the books they’d bought for Geralt to him, out loud, and it was fast becoming a special thing to Geralt. The deep sonorous tone of Duncan’s voice was enchanting to listen to, it kept the story engaging and Geralt loved to curl up on Duncan while he read. To feel the vibrations of Duncan’s speech rumble up into his body.

It was relaxing and after talking about his mother disappearing on him again, and hearing about Raymond being trapped, Geralt wanted to relax and help Duncan do the same. He moved off Duncan reluctantly to allow him to go to the kitchen. While Duncan fixed tea and looked for snacks, Geralt went to the bedroom. 

Returning with his book in hand, their place marked by a plastisteel pendant with a thin cord attached to it that dangled out from between the pages. Geralt sat on the couch and waited for Duncan to bring out their chai. He nabbed a ginger ork, biting off an arm. It had an aromatic spiciness to it. The ginger tickling Geralt’s mouth, then immediately soothed by the sweetness of the molasses. Not so sweet Eskel would have eaten a plate though.

Once Duncan had gotten comfortable, Geralt reclaimed his lap. Sitting sideways across it with his knees up and his mug resting on one, while he leaned his whole body up along Duncan’s chest, tucking his head up against the side of Duncan’s neck. Carefully he brought his chai up to blow on it and sip. “Alright I’m ready.” Arm slipping behind Duncan to tuck just under his shirt, Geralt grinned.

The words on the page meant nothing to Geralt alone. But they meant something to Duncan, and when Duncan read them to Geralt, they meant the world to him.

~~~~~~

Rhys shook himself at the lingering taste of nutmeg on his tongue and the flame of alcohol burning down a path from his throat to his stomach. He put the glass down harder than intended on the coffee table, the knock echoed left and right from him by the witchers' glasses.

"I always forget how horrible this stuff is. And then I can't believe it's really this bad and have another glass. And another." Demonstrating, Rhys refilled their glasses with Usquebaugh from the wide-mouthed bottle with the hand-written label. The smell of high proof alcohol was enough to make his eyes water and the nutmeg tickled his nose. 

Duncan was out with his shanty group and wouldn't be back until late. And Rhys had been given the bottle of Usquebaugh as payment for a healing spell a few days before. Since Duncan didn't drink much alcohol and definitely not this stuff, Rhys had asked Eskel and Geralt who had been enthusiastic about sampling it.

As always, it was hard to tell for Rhys if he was just this drunk or if the hallucinogenic effects of the nutmeg were setting in. But he enjoyed himself, cuddling on the couch with both Eskel and Geralt, a pleasant buzzing in his ears. The colors _were_ getting a little weird, especially those of the flaming red orchid on the windowsill, but then it always looked a bit psychedelic.

Rhys nestled into Eskel, choosing to wait a little before drinking more. "Is there still some of the chocolate?" 

They had bought incredibly rich dark chocolate and it did pair well with this. Rhys could have checked himself, the bowl was on the table after all and perfectly within reach. But he didn't want to move right now.

***

Ale that was dark and chewy, that was how Eskel had always described his preference in beers. Rhys had bought him some Arrogant Gargoyle at the corner market and he’d been having one or two with dinner most nights. It was stronger than the weak beer often served in inns but _nothing_ compared to this.

Keeping careful hold of Rhys and leaning forward to peer into the bowl on the table behind their glasses, Eskel stole a handful of pieces. “One for you and two for me. Finders fee.” Giggling like a farmer’s daughter in Novigrad Eskel handed a piece to Rhys who frowned sadly at him with puppy dog eyes. “Geralt?” No sooner had the question left his mouth than Eskel had stuffed the other two pieces in his mouth.

“Nu-huh. Too sweet. Don’t know how you two can eat so much of that. A few pieces was plenty for me.” Geralt shook his head. Then shook it again as if clearing cotton from his mind. “ _This_ is strong shit.”

“Riiight?” Eskel’s word was drawn out and it made him giggle again. It was dark and chewy alright. There were actually bits floating here and there in it—bitter hops and warm spicy nutmeg—that he could literally chew if he wanted. There was no need to, they’d go down burning with the rest of the alcohol, but he found lack of filtering and obvious homebrewing of it charming. That and the hand scrawled label.

“Wonder if this’s what it ‘s like to be human. Three drinks in an’ already solidly buzzed.” Rubbing his hand over his face Eskel’s nose felt almost numb, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been really drunk. Or maybe he didn’t want to. He couldn’t remember.

Eskel leaned over to give Rhys a kiss and found he wasn’t exactly where he’d left him. Rhys had snuck over and had Geralt’s arm looped loosely around his waist now. Head resting on Geralt’s shoulder Eskel could swear when Rhys looked up at him his ears were pointed more backward than normal.The look on his face reminded Eskel comically of a petulant Lambert for a second and he laughed out loud.

Leaning forward Eskel took a sip of his Usquebaugh savoring the fumes in his nose and the bite of the alcohol in his throat. Laughing and grinning at Rhys he took out a few more pieces of chocolate and held one out to Rhys who snatched it right up. “Two for you, if you come back to give me a kiss.” 

Biting into his own piece Eskel grinned, completely oblivious to his own face and how it moved his scars. Washing it down with a few sips of Usquebaugh Eskel laid back into the couch cushion and waggled the last piece of chocolate at Rhys, still grinning like a wolf setting a trap.

***

Geralt snickered and whispered into Rhys’ ear, “I think he likes you, you know that?” Pulling his arm out from around Rhys to drain his drink Geralt coughed and pounded his fist into his chest. “Holy Gods! I don’t even want to know what’s in this, do I?” 

Eyes watering Geralt flopped back on the couch and watched the room move for a moment before it stopped along with him. Looking over next to him Rhys was curled up with his back to Geralt contently chewing the last piece of chocolate.

“Oh! I know. Let’s play Lambert’s game! Never have I ever…” Sitting back up far faster than his body was ready for Geralt held onto the couch for a second to steady himself and then refilled his own glass and topped off Eskel’s.

“I’ll ask first and if any of us have ever done what I say then we have to take a drink.” Geralt grinned a bit maniacally at Eskel who groaned and ran a hand down his face.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Are we going to do the succubus thing again?” Rocking up using his feet as leverage Eskel sat back, up bringing Rhys with him, who only looked between the two curiously with a fang out of his partially open mouth. “Yeah, I fucked a succubus once. Geralt’s not innocent either.” Pointing a finger at his lover Eskel smirked.

“Never have I ever…” Geralt wracked his brain for things he was certain he didn’t already know about these two. And then it dawned on him, both Rhys and Eskel professed to be gay, not at all interested in woman though it was possible they’d experimented, it wasn’t like he’d asked before. It would certainly cost him a drink but if he found out something interesting it would be worth it “… had sex with a woman.” Geralt grinned down the couch at them and took a drink. “And to clarify succubi don’t count.”

Stone faced as ever Eskel took a drink. 

“What? When? How have I never known this.” Geralt was flabbergasted, he knew about the succubus but Eskel had never mentioned a woman anywhere.

“Aldith.” Eskel huffed out a laugh. “She was a fuckin’ wild one. But only once. We made better friends. ‘M not into women.”

And now Geralt felt like an idiot because Eskel had mentioned Aldith _plenty_ and how else does one meet a whorehouse madame. Nonetheless he grinned at Eskel and then looked at Rhys expectantly.

***

Rhys took a drink. "Or maybe not - it depends on what you mean by sex. I've played with a woman - we liked the power exchange between us, but no actual fucking was involved. I never did that." 

He focused hard on what he is saying so his tongue didn't stumble. Sitting up was hard enough and once he had taken his drink, he slowly fell back against Geralt, pulled Geralt's arm around him and stretched out so his legs landed in Eskel's lap.

Trailing his fingers over Geralt's arm, Rhys thought about his question. The buzzing had stopped and everything had snapped into clarity, especially his hearing. Every rustle of clothes was loud to him and he spent a little listening to Geralt's heartbeat while he came up with something to ask.

"Alright. Never have I ever taken part in a heist." Rhys took a drink and was glad that it wasn't a drink for every heist. He had specialized in them during his career as a runner because the chance of bloodshed was comparatively low. 

With his glass held on his stomach, he watched Eskel for a reaction. Geralt moved under him to take a drink and Rhys wasn't surprised in the slightest. He tipped his head back for a quick look at him. "What did you steal?"

***

"Art, gold, but mostly someone's will. Oh! And once some horses!" Geralt proudly grinned.

"Depends on what you consider a heist? I've stolen things, things other people stole first I've stolen back. But I've never worked with others to do it." Eskel took a drink anyway just because he liked the taste.

Trying to think of something he didn’t already know about Geralt was _hard_. Almost anything he didn’t know about Rhys would be a treasured nugget of information. Tumbling around the kinds of experiences Geralt might have had out on the Path when Eskel wasn’t there to see it and wanting to keep the mood light Eskel settled on a question.

“Ever never. Wait. Never ever have I partaken… partook in an orgy.” Sitting back against the cushions with one hand behind his head and a satisfied grin Eskel rubbed Rhys’ legs in his lap. Damn. That was hard to get out, he was proud of himself.

Geralt took a heavy drink and set his glass down a little hard coughing. When he glanced at Eskel’s smirking face with one eyebrow raised he grinned. “What? Sorceresses.”

“Not judging jus’ curious ‘s all.” Eskel’s head lolled in the direction of Geralt and Rhys.

***

Rhys drained about half of his glass without really meaning too and gasped for air as the Usquebaugh burned its way down his throat.

Geralt wound his hand under Rhys' shirt and poked him gently. "Do tell."

"It wasn' planned as one. It jus' kind of --went there. It was _meant_ to be a birthday party but we were all runnin' in the same kinky circles. An', as one does, we started playing around with bondage and stuff. Things developed from there. Pers'nal high point: first time ever fucking a troll. Still know him, he's a good guy." Rhys gestured at Eskel with his glass. Eskel hadn't asked but his curiosity had been written large all over his face. "Any questions?"

He was aware that he was slurring his words but he didn't care much. Reaching up lazily, he petted the little vine that had stretched a tendril down to him and it retreated again after winding around his fingers for a moment. Its green smell was vivid before dissolving in the rich teak of the trollish whiskey.

***

“So, so many.” Eskel _snorted_. Laughing and grinning he tried to picture and found it wasn’t that hard at all. “Who did the actual fuckin’? You or him?”

Eskel’s hand wandered up Rhys leg, gently massaging, waiting for the answer, silly grin on his face thoroughly enthralled. “Hmm.” Rhys’s eyes rolled around like he was searching through the cobwebs and fog for the answer somewhere inside. “Both? Eventually, but him tha’ night.” Giggling Rhys scrunched his face up in a fangy grin.

“Well, that answers my second question.” Eskel huffed and sipped his Usquebaugh for no reason other than he wanted to. “Which was if you’d do it again.”

Geralt piped in, pulling his hand out of Rhys’ shirt to run his finger around the shell of of Rhys’ ear and leaning down to leer at Eskel as he spoke. “Did I ever mention…that Eskel has a big thing for horns?” Senses far too dulled Geralt wasn’t able to dodge the pillow the smacked him full in the face.

“Geeeralt of _Rivia_!” Eskel barked out. A mortified look spreading on his face, still wielding the pillow one-handed for another strike.

“What?!” Geralt was rolling with laughter so hard there were tears in his eyes. “It’s true! ‘S what gets you with the succubuseses- succubi. I don’ know if you like to hold onto ‘em or what.” The pillow bounced off Geralt’s arm which he masterfully managed to get up in time and landed somewhere on the floor.

“Yeah well,” Eskel wracked his muddled brain for a suitable insult, “You liked having sex on a stuffed unicorn! Don’t judge.” 

“Alright, alright.” Geralt took a breath to settle his laughter. Propping himself up with Geralt’s help Rhys leaned heavily on him and Geralt whispered quietly in his ear. “It’s true though.”

“Geralt. Behave.” Eskel drunkenly rumbled.

“Alright. Never have I ever gotten smashed and put on womens clothes.” It was one Geralt already knew him and Eskel would have to drink to. The nutmeg and hops burned hot on the way down and Geralt roared happily at his success in getting Eskel to open up, even reluctantly.

Eskel snorted again and gulped his drink. He really did _like_ like this stuff and he wasn’t sure what Rhys meant when he said it was awful. Not only did it taste good, it was remarkably good at getting him drunk. Better than Lambert’s homebrew even.

“Yup, you know it too ‘cause you were there. Too bad you went with tights an’ not a real dress like me though. Fuck. Yen was so pissed at us. Not tha’ she likes me much anyway.” It was a good memory. All of the witchers left now drunk and enjoying themselves. “See, Rhys, tha’s the kinda stupsid, err, stupid shit we get up to when drunk.”

***

"I dunno, Geralt, with your waist you really should have gone for a dress. It would look good on you." Rhys was still giggling to himself, mostly about Eskel's indignation at Geralt spilling the beans. And he was not so drunk that he didn't make a mental note of the horns. A thing for later.

He took a small sip. "I didn' get _drunk_ for it. But I've been known to wear a dress. Makeup, too, but I haven't done it for _years_ now."

Swirling the rest of his drink around in the glass, he thought for a bit. Letting his gaze wander around the room, it caught on his sketchbooks on their shelf. 

"Right. Never have I ever been painted naked." He drained his glass and put it down on the table, upturned. Three glasses of the stuff was his limit, he had overindulged on it before and didn't relish the thought of a strong nutmeg high.

***

Geralt drained the remainder of his glass, stacking it atop Rhys' open end up. "It's not the best likeness, I didn't pose nude he jus' painted it that way." Geralt waved his hand around as if that explained it all."The scars aren't even right."

With exaggerated slowness Geralt let himself fall back against the couch cushions. Leaving his glass on the table the last drink still in it, Eskel laid down sideways. Head on Geralt's chest.

Smirking Eskel looked at Rhys. "I wanna see that someday if 's still around. Geralt's is hanging in our bedroom at Corvo." Snaking an arm around Rhys, Eskel pulled him close.

***

"I wan' to see _that_. I don' have mine, but I have pictures of it. Remind me tomorrow? I need to stop drinkin' now. The nutmeg is kicking in an' I don' wanna get too high on it. Because tha's unpleasant." He had panicked the last time and Duncan had had to hold him and talk to him for two hours. Rhys took a deep breath, tried to get his tongue and his brain under control again for a little bit. Colors had started to bleed into the air just the slightest bit.

Stealing a kiss from Eskel, Rhys extricated himself and rolled gently off the couch, standing up on just slightly wobbly legs. "Let's push the couch together so we can really lie down. If we put the table to the side, you can still reach your glasses."

This got no argument from the witchers and after some rearranging of furniture at cross purposes until Eskel took command of the situation, they were settled on the couch again with much more room. Rhys had crawled back into the middle, had pushed his back against Geralt and draped Geralt's arm over himself. 

With his head resting on Eskel's chest, Rhys gave a sigh. "I'm never gettin' up again." A thought struck him and he raised his head to look at Eskel who was just sipping the last of his drink. "So. Would you _like_ to be painted nude? Or drawn, rather?"

***

Eskel hesitated. The prospect was intriguing. He wondered how Rhys saw him. He loved the sketches Rhys had given him of him and Geralt, unguarded moments in time. 

On the other hand it meant allowing a lot of attention being directly focused on him. Naked. Aww fuck it, it was Rhys. "I think I would, actually."

Cuddling up to Rhys he stretched an arm underneath Geralt's head petting the side of his face. He was still annoyed at Geralt for oversharing but he wouldn't let it show. It would only make them both more curious. Geralt was quickly snoring on his hand and Eskel settled in.

***

"Then we'll do that." Rhys grinned up at Eskel, already excited for it.

With Geralt falling asleep to one side and Eskel petting him to the other side of him, Rhys relaxed and idly followed his own thoughts. The nutmeg kept him from falling asleep but he didn't feel like talking much. He drifted along, pleasantly lost in time. 

Always on the edge of some revelation but never quite able to grasp it, Rhys turned over his life in his thoughts and all the changes the last years had brought. Mostly to the better. He was content where and with whom he was. Just when he was wishing that Duncan was here to share in the cuddle pile, the apartment door opened.

Rhys thought about getting up to greet Duncan, but he couldn't bring up the energy to go through with it. Duncan would find them.

***

Toeing off his shoes in the hallway, Duncan moved quietly in case the others had already gone to sleep. But there was light in the living room and he went to check. 

All three of them were sprawled out on the couch, with an almost empty bottle of Usquebaugh on the table off to the side. Duncan gave a little sigh and a grin at how comfortable it looked. So comfortable that he didn't feel like going to bed alone at all.

Duncan grabbed a few spare woolen blankets from the closet and went to join them. Rhys greeted him with a pleased smile, pupils blown wide. But he seemed fine and relaxed, unlike last time.

"Hey. You look like you had a good time." Duncan sat next to Eskel where there was room and Rhys leaned over to kiss him, leaving the taste of nutmeg on Duncan's tongue.

***

“Duuuncan.” Eskel whispered loudly. It was accompanied by sad puppy dog eyes comically out of place on his face. His words stretched out as he went on to complain. “Geralt was meeean to mee. Tol’ aaall my secrets.”

Noticing what Duncan was carrying Eskel’s face returned to an excited grin. “You brought blankets. Cuddle with meee!” Turning over Eskel rose up and threw an arm over, starting to pull Duncan down. Duncan arranged the blankets around them all before laying down all the way. 

Eskel wormed his way inside Duncan’s arm, resting his head up on Duncan’s shoulder with one hand stuff under the small of his back and the other arm thrown over Duncan’s stomach. “Yeeess. So warm. Jus’ need my hair petted.” Not ready to drift off yet but more than ready to lay on Duncan and not move again Eskel hummed lightly to himself.

***

The warm hand on his face went missing and Geralt rose out of his alcohol induced slumber enough to lift his head and look around. The room blurred a little but when it caught up with itself it Eskel was further away than he was before. Rhys was talking quietly with Duncan and petting his arm, the one wrapped around Eskel.

Suddenly motivated by the loss of Eskel’s touch Geralt clambered over Rhys, stopping straddled halfway on top of him for a long kiss made less hurried by their combined drunkenness. Rolling off for air, Geralt snuggled himself up close to Eskel’s back. Hands snaking under Eskel’s shirt and seeking the bare skin of his abdomen to pet Geralt sighed sleepily.

***

Distracted by their kiss and then shoved out of the way by Geralt's sheer weight, Rhys found himself at the edge of the pile without quite knowing how he got there. He gave an indignant whine at being left out in the cold, stuffed a blanket around himself and nestled into Geralt with one arm draped around him and his hand between Geralt's belly and Eskel's back. Propped up on his elbow, he blinked in the sudden darkness - Duncan had dimmed the lights with a wave to the AR controls.

There still was more than enough light for Rhys to see by and he settled down to just watch the others cuddle and slowly fall asleep. He was pleasantly tired but not sleepy at all. Geralt had already dozed off again. Eskel was rolled up between Geralt and Duncan, with Duncan hugging him and lazily petting Eskel's hair. Rhys smiled happily at the sight and was met with an answering smile from Duncan.

***

Eskel's sudden show of physical affection had taken Duncan a little aback. He wasn't uncomfortable with it, just surprised. Until now, Eskel and he had always kept a bit more distance, touching easily but never _cuddling_ like this. But he gladly obliged and pulled Eskel close, winding strands of Eskel's hair around his fingers, tugging lightly on it.

Looking up, Duncan met Rhys' eyes. Judging from Rhys' smile and his slightly sluggish but sure movements, Duncan wasn't worried about him having a bad trip. It seemed quite the opposite, Rhys was obviously enjoying himself.

Duncan closed his eyes and gave a long sigh of contentment. With Eskel wrapped around him, he found it hard not to drift off and gave in to sleep coming to claim him.

***

Heavy, slow, and louder than usual, Geralt's breathing behind him told Eskel he'd drifted right back off to sleep. Eskel could not have been more content with the situation. Warm, feeling safe and guarded, able to let someone else watch over him for once, he drifted in his mind.

A large weighty arm had curled around him and a hand was sifting through his hair, twisting and separating the locks.

Rhys hand squirmed in between Geralt's belly and his back, adding to the perfection. Unaware how long he drifted thinking on nothing in particular Eskel dozed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Notes:  
> mentions of abuse/abandonment  
> alcohol  
> parental/sibling death


	7. To the Lighthouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Once the buildings and cars gave way to green hills dotted with shrubs and Rhys turned his attention to driving the car, Eskel looked out the window, interest snared by the landscape. It held the same things as the areas near the sea at home and yet it was different._  
>  Rhys and Eskel take a few days away from London.

The drive from London has been a fairly long one but for the most part, the grid had been able to take over driving. The more distance they put between them and the sprawl, the more visibly relaxed Eskel grew.

After the initial culture shock, Eskel had adapted better than Rhys had feared but there remained some tension that wouldn't go away. So Rhys had made some calls and then announced one morning that he and Eskel would be going somewhere for a few days. He had talked it over with Duncan who didn't mind the chance to have the apartment with Geralt to themselves.

Eskel had of course asked but Rhys had only assured him that there wouldn't be many people and that they would have a place to themselves. Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere, Eskel had been content with only making light conversation on the way.

The sprawl and industrialized landscape had given way to the rolling hills and forests of Wales and by now, Rhys had to drive the car himself, the grid wasn't reliable enough. The route had taken them along the sea for a while, then inland again and now they were nearing the sea again. The smell of salt announced it even inside the car.

Rhys had bought everything they needed for a day or two but there was a small market in the village of Niwbwrch, not to mention a pub. Driving on, Rhys finally pulled into a small parking lot and shut off the engine. 

"We walk from here." Grabbing their things and the bags of groceries, they set off down a path towards the beach. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore was loud in Rhys' ears, mixing with the screams of gulls overhead and their footsteps on the gravel path. A steady wind blew in from the sea, tugging small strands of his hair from his braid, and carrying with it the scent of salt. It mixed pleasantly with the smell of pines from the trees around them.

After they had left the last of the sparse wood behind them, the headland that was their goal became visible and Rhys stopped and pointed. 

"There, the lighthouse. That's ours for the next couple of days. It's no longer a working lighthouse, now there's an apartment in there." Turning to Eskel, Rhys happily grinned at him, enjoying the way the wind blew Eskel's hair around, his eyes like dark honey in the afternoon sun.

***

Once the buildings and cars gave way to green hills dotted with shrubs and Rhys turned his attention to driving the car, Eskel looked out the window, interest snared by the landscape. It held the same things as the areas near the sea at home and yet it was different.

It was quiet. He’d taken out his earbuds and though he could hear the hum of their own car’s engine, he could also hear Rhys talking and the gulls off the shore. The smell of saltwater pervaded everything, but under it was the scent of grass and it soothed Eskel in a way he hadn’t known he needed.

Rhys parked the car and Eskel helped carry the groceries Rhys had brought along. Even with his own pack it was no more than he was used to carrying on the Path at times and walking on foot with it was suddenly nostalgic. The scent of the sea and Rhys, the lack of _people_ everywhere, being on foot—Eskel was at home here.

A tall white tower came into view. Not tall like he’d seen in the last few days in London, but tall compared to all the things here, tall if it were on the Continent. Rhys stopped to point it out. Telling Eskel they were going there, that he’d rented it for a few days.

Smirking with sheer joy Eskel trekked forward. “This ‘s perfect. I don’ know how you found this, an’ m’ not sure I even care. ‘S quiet, an’ secluded.” His smirk turned into a full grin and he turned around walking backwards to look at Rhys, the wind blowing his hair around the sides of his face. “An’ … I even hafta walk to get to it!”

There were no drones in the sky, only real birds, the kind that lived and breathed and had a heart that beat. Eskel honed his senses in and all he could hear was waves crashing, birds screaming, and two heartbeats, no one else.

Stopping in his tracks, Eskel watched Rhys’ long graceful steps carry him closer. Shifting the groceries to one hand Eskel darted an arm out in front of Rhys just as he was going to pass him by, drawing him up short and kissing him full on the lips. “Thank you.”

Letting go and rearranging his bags again Eskel turned and took Rhys by the hand to keep walking.

***

Rhys held on to Eskel's hand but he was rooted to the spot, stunned by the kiss. He had not expected it in the least, not with how careful Eskel had been even about touching him. Holding hands was now something they did fairly casually, but he wouldn't have thought that Eskel would kiss him in public ever. Not even in such a lonely place as this.

But he had and Rhys was delighted, a huge grin spreading on his face. "I'm glad you like it so much." 

Shifting his bags and squeezing Eskel's hand, Rhys matched his steps to Eskel's and they followed the path to the lighthouse. There was a box to be opened with a keycode that held the actual key to the front door. Stepping inside, they were in the living room that took up the base of the tower, with a roomy kitchen added to it in an annex. 

Rhys put the bags down and quickly stored the perishables in the fridge and freezer. Eskel helped him and they explored the rest of the tower together, finding an outdoor shower around the back. Upstairs was a bedroom with a iron frame bed that gave Rhys ideas already and another spiral staircase led to the bathroom. The tub was big enough for them both and a window opposite with a wide view of the sea and sky. Right now, the sun was glinting off the waves and only a few fluffy clouds were drifting by.

Going down the stairs again, Rhys let himself fall on the bed, bouncing on the mattress. He rolled on his side, propped himself up on his elbow and patted the bed in front of him invitingly.

"Come join me. Lie with me for a bit?" When Eskel followed the invitation, Rhys threw an arm and a leg over him and pulled him into a long, deep kiss.

"I thought you needed to get away from the city for a bit. And I wanted us to go somewhere where it's just us. Our own place. I like it a lot when all four of us are together or when we go do our own thing and then meet later for dinner. But I think it's important that we have things and a space we don't share." He traced Eskel's scars with his fingertips, gently massaging them.

***

“This ‘s wonderful. I couldn’t have picked a better place m’self.” Wrapping a hand around the back of Rhys’ thigh where it stretched over his own leg Eskel’s fingers drew lazy patterns on it. “‘M gettin’ used to London. I don’ dislike it. But this, I think this is jus’ what I needed. Leave it to you to see that.”

The warmth of Rhys’ hand on his scars caused Eskel to slowly turn his face up, seeking more. “‘S like the best of both my home an’ yours. Solitary, peaceful, fresh air—but with a stove, an’ walking distance from a store.” Scars tugging under Rhys’ fingers as his lips curled into a smile Eskel turned and kissed Rhys’ hand.

“I love it, already an’ we’ve barely been here.” Rolling onto his back Eskel pulled Rhys over on top of himself, glorying in the weight as Rhys came to rest on him. “‘M glad you thought of this. I enjoy our time all together, an’ when we do our own thing during the day an’ meet up for dinner too, but jus’ to have a space that we don’ hafta share—’s special.”

Running his hand up Rhys’ thigh and over his ass Eskel tucked it down in the waistband of Rhys’ pants, fingers barely grazing the swell of his ass. Rucking up Rhys’ shirt with his other hand Eskel traced up the ridges and valleys of Rhys’ spine with his fingertips, then down again. Dry warm skin under his hand, Eskel imagined the lines of the tattoos he knew were there, humming into the skin of Rhys’ neck where he kissed it.

In the end his hand abandoned Rhys’ spine to undo the tie holding together his braid. Eskel teased apart the sections, raking his fingers through the silky thick hair. Spreading it all out over Rhys’ shoulders and down in a curtain on each side of his face Eskel sighed contentedly. Both hands digging into Rhys’ hair and massaging his scalp from forehead to the base of his skull. Eskel lifted his head up to kiss Rhys’ mouth languidly. “So you gonna teach me how to use the stove while we’re here?”

***

"Of course - we can cook pasta and sauce together later, I brought everything for that. We won't need to leave the house for the next two days unless we want to. After that, we'll run out of groceries." But food was far from Rhys' mind right now. 

Despite the long drive, he didn't feel like resting or eating. He felt like eating _Eskel_ alive though. Raising himself up so he was straddling Eskel on his hands and knees, he dipped down for another kiss. 

He moved back and wormed his hands under Eskel's shirt, pushing it up, kissing and nibbling the exposed skin. With his hair open, the strands dragged along Eskel's skin every time he moved and Rhys let it pool on his stomach before sitting up.

"I think we can afford to have dessert before dinner today." It wasn't a question and Eskel let Rhys undress him, reached up to take off Rhys' own shirt. When he tried to open Rhys' pants, Rhys gently but firmly took Eskel's wrists and held his hands next to his head. 

Leaning his full weight on Eskel's wrists, Rhys flashed a fangy grin. "Behave."

He had heard Eskel telling Geralt the same thing more than once and aimed for the exact same tone. Moving down, he let his hair drag over Eskel's chest in his wake. On the way, he stopped to softly bite at Eskel's nipples and flanks, leaving the tiniest red marks with his fangs.

When he had reached Eskel's cock, Rhys licked along its length and then raised his head, grinning up at Eskel. His hair spread over Eskel's thighs and stomach, hiding what he was doing as soon as he lowered his head again.

***

Eskel immediately recognized his own tone mirrored in Rhys' voice, understood its intent and hidden meaning. Rhys wanted him to stop. It made him smirk back at Rhys but he left his hands where Rhys had placed them. Watched Rhys intently work his way down his body.

Breathing heavily with each successive bite, pressure but never painful, Eskel grew antsy. He wanted to touch Rhys back but he knew that wasn't what Rhys wanted and after such a nice surprise as coming here he was content to let Rhys play for a bit. Push him around. 

Rhys licked a hot stripe up his cock and Eskel let out a groan. Reaching up behind himself Eskel wound his hands in the iron bars at the head of the bed. Cool in his hands, they provided a counterpoint to the heat of Rhys' mouth. Solid and unyielding in his grip he pulled at them, lifting his hips slightly.

Unable to see past the curtain of black silk that was Rhys' hair but able to imagine that mouth. Edged in tusks and fangs full of danger but so gentle with him. Ever since their first time Rhys mouth had done things to Eskel. Driven him to abandon his rigid self control and enjoy the pleasure offered there.

***

Seeing Eskel playing along and keeping himself from touching made Rhys smile. He bent down again and took Eskel's shaft in his mouth, fangs and tusks leaving tiny dents in the skin. Just enough to remind Eskel that they were there. Not that Eskel really needed reminding.

Rhys held him like this and cupped his balls with one hand, rolling them and tugging gently. Under him, Eskel's muscles quivered with the strain of keeping still. Eventually, Rhys had mercy on him and let go of his cock, licking over the faint marks he had left.

Mouthing at the head of Eskel's cock, Rhys pushed the foreskin down to reveal the sensitive tip. He sucked on it, salty precum on his tongue, and let one hand wander up to Eskel's chest, tracing circles around his nipples.

***

Sucking in a deep breath Eskel held stock still at the sharpness of Rhys' teeth, barely pressing into his cock, but the danger was still there all the same. As was the thrill, the knowledge that Rhys could hurt him and chose not to. Carefully staying within the level of sensations Eskel liked.

Rhys rolling his balls in his hand was just as thrilling, he wanted to move with it but the light bite to his shaft kept him still. When Rhys gave a tug Eskel couldn't keep the air in his lungs from escaping in a rough groan though. It pulled at something deep inside, both slowing him down and bringing his arousal higher at the same time.

The urge to touch overrode Eskel at last when Rhys relented, teasing no more than the sensitive head of his cock in his mouth. Running his tongue around it and making Eskel swear.

"Fuck, Rhys." Raising his legs, Eskel pressed his feet into Rhys' flanks. The skin contact settled him and he pulled at the bars, tipping his hips up seeking more of Rhys' mouth with a sigh. Feet sliding down, they rested on the small of Rhys' back and Eskel relaxed into the sensation of Rhys' mouth on his cock.

***

Swallowing Eskel down a little more than halfway, Rhys gave a soft pinch to his nipple at the same time. It drew a moan from Eskel and Rhys let his other hand wander up, putting at least some of his weight against Eskel's legs.

With both hands gently thumbing and pinching at Eskel's nipples, Rhys sucked and licked at his cock, the skin soft and velvety on his tongue. Below the salt was the taste of clean skin. 

Coming up for air, Rhys swallowed and grinned at seeing Eskel hold on to the bedframe for dear life, the muscles in his arms standing out very enticingly. His skin was flushed and had taken on an even darker tone, some of the scars reddening, others standing out pale.

Rhys drew his hands back over Eskel's chest to his stomach, tracing some of those scars. Leaning forward, he pressed his body to Eskel's, his head on Eskel's chest. He stayed like this for a little while, Eskel's heartbeat loud in his ears. Between them, Eskel's cock pulsed and twitched against Rhys' belly.

"You can touch me if you want to." Knowing full well Eskel wanted to - it was obvious in his hungry gaze and in the way he clutched at the metal bars of the bedframe. Rhys propped himself up on one hand, the other reaching for Eskel's cock to stroke it, fingertips gently squeezing the tip. He bent down to leave another almost invisible trail of marks with his fangs and tusks all over Eskel's chest.

***

With no hesitation Eskel let go of the bar and delved one hand into Rhys’ hair, fingers skimming along Rhys’ scalp. Sifting the silken strands in between his fingers Eskel sighed. Chest rising of its own accord to greet Rhys’ mouth, pressing gently into his teeth, Eskel blinked slowly. His other hand cupped Rhys’ jaw, thump grazing over the corner of Rhys’ upturned lips. Teasing the smile that lingered there even as Rhys’ nibbled at him again and again.

The twin sensations of Rhys’ mouth nipping at his chest and his hand working Eskel cock expertly woke a tempest inside of Eskel. Biting at his lips, Eskel tried to keep his mouth closed, to hold in the noises that wanted to tumble free as the pleasure buffeted him from everywhere.

Pushing his heels into the small of Rhys’ back, Eskel fought for the leverage he needed to thrust his cock through Rhys’s skillful hand, just a little harder, a bit faster. He was slick with spit from Rhys’ mouth and every time he thought the head of his cock would slip out of Rhys’ grip, instead Rhys gave a barely there squeeze to the tip that made him want to buck his hips harder.

Running his hand through Rhys’ hair Eskel carefully moved it all over to one side. Ran his fingers around the tip of Rhys’ ear, then traced it with his fingernails. “Please.” Eskel’s voice was rough and wanton even to his own ears. “You should,” a rough swallow paused Eskel’s train of thought when Rhys nibbled at his nipple, “ugh. Fuck, Rhys. You should use your mouth again.”

***

Rhys grinned, turning his head into Eskel's touch. "Oh, _should_ I? But I am using my mouth. I'm doing all kinds of things with it."

A quick nip to Eskel's thumb served as a demonstration before Rhys went back to biting and nibbling at his chest and flanks. He dragged his hair over Eskel's body, the strands coiling on Eskel's chest as Rhys moved lower. Letting go of Eskel's cock, Rhys grabbed his hips with both hands, holding him down.

He gave the faintest bite to the head of Eskel's cock, just one fang, and let go when Eskel jerked and made a strangled sound. With a pleased hum, Rhys took Eskel into his mouth and swallowed around him, licking at the shaft. Moving slowly, he let the cock almost slip out of his mouth again, sucking on the tip, before pushing himself down on it until he had taken Eskel whole. 

Coming up for air, Rhys caught Eskel's gaze. "Is this what you want? Your cock down my throat?"

***

"Yeah." Arousal had turned Eskel's voice to gravel. The way Rhys had put it, like something you'd hear in a whorehouse, reached inside and grabbed at a part of Eskel that was far less polite.

"I was bein' good. Lettin' you enjoy yourself. But if your gonna tease me, I can jus' take what's _mine_ " The hand carding through Rhys' hair tightened at the last word holding his head still while Eskel looked down at him questioningly.

The cocksure fangy grin that accompanied Rhys' words said not just yes, but an enthusiastic—yes, please. "If you want it so bad why don't you just _take what's yours_?"

The raging need to take, own, have, make his own, reared its ugly head in Eskel and he only hoped Rhys was really prepared. Rolling into a sitting position Eskel scooped Rhys up under his arms and dragged him up the bed.

Rhys came to rest beside where Eskel had been moments ago, with Eskel now astride his shoulders. Eskel painted a wet streak of precum across Rhys' lips with his cock.

"Open for me." Hardly giving Rhys time to comply Eskel pressed the web between his thumb and finger against Rhys chin. Pushing down hard he forced Rhys' mouth open wide and, ever careful of Rhys' tusks and fangs, fed his cock inside.

Sighing at the heat Eskel didn't pause, didn't give Rhys time to adjust, he just sunk himself in until he bumped the back of Rhys' throat. The soft tissue contracted around him as Rhys tried to suppress a gag. Then he pushed past it letting his cock dip into that constricting tightness.

Rising up to adjust his angle, Eskel put one hand on the iron bed frame to keep himself steady. Content that Rhys would hold his mouth open he brought the other hand up from Rhys chin to grip his hair. This time when Eskel drove his hips down his cock slid right in, Rhys throat opening up for him and Eskel sighed, deeply satisfied.

***

Manhandled and forced to take Eskel's cock, tears welled up in Rhys' eyes at the intrusion. He ran his palms over Eskel's thighs to his ass, grabbing hard. 

When Eskel pulled back after a long moment, Rhys sucked down air and swallowed quickly. He didn't think he would get many chances to properly breathe from now on and he was right. 

Eskel pushed right back in and set a pace of fast, deep thrusts, not caring about Rhys' ability to breathe. Chasing his pleasure, Eskel used him and it was exactly what Rhys wanted, had pushed for. 

He choked and gagged and held on to Eskel to keep from writhing under him. It wasn't pleasant at all, his body driven to the edge of panic. But it still made his cock ache and his balls draw up tight and Rhys held his mouth open so Eskel could use him.

***

"Fucking Melitele that's good. You wanted me to take what's mine-" Eskel paused with his cock deep in Rhys' throat, reveling at the way it gripped him when Rhys fought not to struggle, "-to fuck your throat. Did you think your tears would hold me back?" Eskel's hand moved from Rhys' hair and his thumb wiped away some of the wetness at the edge of Rhys' eye.

"They won't. You're mine an' I know you want this." The way Rhys' hands grasped at his ass and the panicked but needy look in his eyes drove Eskel's lust higher. Rocking his hips he pulled back, thrust in quickly. Groaned at hot wetness enveloping him again and again with each and every plunge.

Warm fire curled in his gut and ice crawled down his thighs, still Eskel chased the edge of his orgasm. Head of his cock dipping into Rhys’ throat, silky warmth fluttering around it and then the tight hold as Eskel pressed further, held it, waited. Barely pulling out before plunging back in, burying his hand in Rhys’ hair again to hold him still, Eskel’s ass tensing under Rhys’ hands.

Eskel cried out, breathless and sated, Rhys’ muscles working around him, swallowing every last drop Eskel had to give him. Only then did Eskel pull his cock all the way out. Rhys lips were swollen and slick. He was fucking beautiful and Eskel slid down to claim his mouth, tasting himself there—salty and bitter. His kiss was nothing like the rough claim he’d just laid. Only slow and patient. Lips barely brushing Rhys’ even as his tongue slipped inside for another taste.

***

Rhys hugged Eskel to himself as hard as he could, shuddering and out of breath. Turning over on his side under Eskel, he coughed wetly, tasting salt and musk. His throat was raw and swallowing not entirely comfortable. But he knew this would pass, it wasn't exactly his first time getting throatfucked this hard.

Clearing his throat, he rolled on his back again and grinned up at Eskel, burying both hands in his hair.

"I take it you enjoyed yourself. I certainly did." Rhys made a mental note of that button to push it a little more often. He _liked_ this ruthless side of Eskel.

***

Smirking down at Rhys, Eskel chuckled at how clearly thrilled Rhys was. “Very,” Eskel dipped down for another tender kiss, “much,” licking at Rhys’ lips, pleased to still find the salty taste there, “so.”

Eskel’s hand wormed between them to cup Rhys through his pants. Found him still very much hard. “You say you enjoyed yourself an’ I believe you did from that smug look.” Nosing Rhys’ hair out of the way Eskel kissed his neck. “But, you could enjoy yourself more. I understand if you wanna wait til after dinner. Jus’ tell me what you want.”

There was nothing pushing about Eskel’s hand on Rhys’ cock. It was fond and warm but not enticing, not even moving. An invitation to be taken or left.

***

At the touch, Rhys sucked down a loud breath and moved into it. But it was a slow and languid push, with no real urgency behind it. "I can wait. Let's have dinner, I'll teach you how to eat spaghetti."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Notes:  
> Oral Sex  
> Rough Sex


	8. Primal Urge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I don't care about control. Do what you want with me." Rhys tipped his head back to bare his throat to Eskel, stretched his arms above his head, wrist held in one hand._  
>  A discussion of horns and kinks, until control is lost.

Spaghetti wrangled and dishes done, they had moved to the couch with a beer for each of them. Rhys leaned against the arm rest and stretched his legs across Eskel's lap. Outside, the sun was starting to set and painted the waves and the sky a gorgeous orange. Inside, they had lit a fire in the wood stove, less for warmth than for the comfort of having a fire.

Rhys cradled his beer bottle against his stomach. "You can absolutely say you don't want to talk about this, I got the feeling that Geralt overshared. But I _am_ curious about your thing for horns."

***

Hand resting on Rhys' leg Eskel took a long pull on his beer. He was going to need a few more or maybe a bottle of Usquebaugh if Rhys really wanted to talk about this.

"Thought you were too drunk to remember that." Eskel picked at the label on his bottle with his thumb.

"Oh I was drunk alright, but not so drunk I missed _that_." There was a casual grin on Rhys' face when Eskel glanced sideways at his words.

Resigning himself to the topic Eskel took another swig, laid his head back on the couch staring aimlessly into nothing. "Yeah, 's a thing for me. I jus' really find them… arousing? Alluring? I don't know. I wanna touch them."

"'S not much of an issue on the Continent 'cause only a few sentient creatures have them. Succubi and sylvans." Eskel's face unconsciously turned down at the idea of anyone fucking a sylvan. "Sylvans are gross an' greedy. Succubi, I've gone there— fantasized about a man an' stuck to the kind of sex I like. Most succubi don't mind. A snack is a snack, an' a witcher is a damn tasty meal."

"Of course, here there's a lot more an' some of the people walkin' around with horns on their head are not only male but attractive." Eskel shrugged and took another long drink. He really wanted to bury his head in his arms, a pillow, anything, but nothing was available that wouldn't be blatantly obvious he was hiding.

"'M with all of you now though. I wouldn't want to infringe on that. An' even if I were able to— I wouldn't know the first place to start." Setting his beer on the coffee table Eskel settled for laying down on the couch, squishing himself in between Rhys legs and the back cushion. Face resting on Rhys' thigh he was content he could hide better now.

***

"I would not feel like you infringed on our relationship, for the record. And I can point you in the right direction if you ever really want to explore this. I'm not saying you need to but just so you know." Rhys scooted over as far as the couch allowed so they shared the space more equally, while still allowing Eskel to hide.

Putting his hand down on Eskel's head to play with and tug on his hair, Rhys took a drink while he thought. "I can relate to this. It's not a huge thing for me, but the troll we talked about, the one I fucked at that orgy? We were kind of together for a bit, for about two years. And we still see each other regularly. Jeremy has these really nice ram horns and they're just fun to touch and scritch. So what you say doesn't really sound that unusual to me."

***

Knowing that Rhys at least didn't find it odd Eskel relaxed a little. "I jus' love the place where the horn comes out. Massaging that skin there, touchin' their horns, feelin' the bumps an' ridges under my hands. I could do so many things…" Eskel drifted off in his own little fantasy for a moment before jerking back.

"An' am glad to know you wouldn't care if I wandered a bit but how would I even? Hey, 'm a weird adept an' I don' wanna keep you around but wanna fuck for the night so I can fondle your horns? Yeah. I'd punch me too." There was an exasperated tone to Eskel's words.

"I've seen a lot of men here, with horns an' things in all kinds of interesting shapes. Don't get me wrong it _intrigues_ me, but there's nothing I can really do about it." Mind wandering again Eskel's cock stirred at the thoughts in his head and he chastised it internally. Willing it to calm.

***

"Theoretically, there's a lot you can do about it. The matrix has made it easy for people with the same interests to find each other and that goes for sexual interests as well. It's still not a guarantee, just because you both like the one thing doesn't mean you get to hook up, but you know how that goes. It's the same everywhere, and everywhen." Rhys let his hand trail down to Eskel's neck, tracing the shell of his ear with one finger.

"It can be weird, hooking up with someone just because you have that one thing in common. But it can also be fun - both know exactly why they are there and how this will go. And believe me, you are far from alone with that interest. There's troll porn and some of that porn is even more specialized." " He shrugged, taking another pull from his bottle.

"Just something to consider. But it's probably a good idea to get more used to this world first. No sense in taking unnecessary risks. I would hate to have to come and break you out of a lab just because someone got too curious after the wrong kind of pillow talk. I’m out of practice for that kind of thing." Rhys emptied his beer bottle and sunk lower on the couch until Eskel was sprawled half on top of him, head on his chest, their legs intertwined.

***

In his head Eskel repeated the mantra _not hooking up with some random troll_. "-wait. Did you just say there's horn porn? Like pictures? Or-" Cock twitching hard and filling up at the thought, Eskel knew there was no way Rhys wouldn't notice.

Why were they talking about this again? Eskel had to wonder as he tried to control his burgeoning stiffness trapped between them. "'M not gonna hit on some random troll, even if I did explore this— which 'm not sayin' I will— I'd want you there. I don't know, to guide me a little? Maybe jus' to watch us?"

Face still buried against Rhys Eskel continued, "I've got no desire to end up a lab project jus' because I wanted to touch someone's horns while I fucked their ass."

***

Rhys shifted and gently pressed up with his thigh between Eskel's against the hardness he had discovered there. "Sure, we can do that together. I'm up for that."

He couldn't help but grin. "And yes, horn porn. Pictures and trid and art. Do me a favor and don't go looking for that with your commlink because-- Hm, let's say it's like buying something from the shadiest dealer in the shadiest back alley in Novigrad unless you know what you are doing."

Increasing the pressure and then relenting, Rhys teased Eskel as slowly as he could. "You know, I can _see_ you imagining things. Are any of these things something _we_ can do because I would love to be yours some more. Be taken by you."

***

“I think you should worry more about Geralt looking for something obscene on his commlink than me. I can hardly pay for goat feed.” Eskel chuckled at himself. He had improved. Barely. He could probably operate a vending machine now— if he was starving and it had pictures. “I won’t tell him if you don’t though. An’ I don’t _think_ Duncan will. He might show him, but he’s too busy explaining recycling to tell him where he got it.”

The leg shifting slowly but relentlessly into his cock was maddening and Eskel was sure it was entirely on purpose. Especially when Rhys commented on his wandering thoughts.

How could he not have a running set of pictures in his mind of what he’d like to do to some of the trolls he’d seen since arriving? Rhys had brought it up having a pretty good idea that it turned him on. “Mmm, can you? See me thinkin’ I mean. A lotta of the things I would like to do aren’t much different from what I’d do to you. Spank ‘em, fuck ‘em, come on their face.”

Eskel scooted up and put his hand under Rhys’ jaw, kissing him with no heat— languidly and lazy. “I like it when you're mine. If you wanna do that we can, I can tie you up an’ do some of those things. But I don’ think that’s what you want. I think you’re teasin’ like earlier.”

When Eskel broke away to look at Rhys he was wearing his fangy grin and Eskel shook his head laughing. Shoved his mouth under Rhys’ jaw and bit down rather hard but not enough to break skin. “An’ _that_ is an entirely different type of _mine_. One I don’t indulge in often, ‘cause… it’s much less controlled. It’s dirty an’ primal, an’ all sorts of things.”

***

"Dirty and primal, you say?" Rhys let his thigh slide along Eskel's cock and back in one long movement. 

"I don't care about control. Do what you want with me." He tipped his head back to bare his throat to Eskel, stretched his arms above his head, wrist held in one hand. 

"Want to grab me, throw me on the bed and put your cock in my ass? Fuck me until you come and spill yourself all over me? Then _take_ me." Rhys held Eskel's gaze without blinking, daring him to do it. He raised his hips, grinding his cock against Eskel.

***

Licking over Rhys' throat Eskel set his teeth over it but didn't bite or even suck, then licked again, still feeling languid. "I put my cock in your ass all the time." Eskel smiled all the way to his eyes. "An' you love it."

Getting right up by Rhys' ear Eskel dropped his voice low and growling. Grabbed Rhys cock through his pants and squeezed. "What you're askin' for is for me to haul you upstairs an' shove my cock in you. Come in your ass an' lick it out, call you a dirty whore for enjoyin' it, an' then do it all again until 'm too exhausted to keep goin'."

Patting Rhys’ cock Eskel rose up on his elbows to look at Rhys, good eyebrow quirked.

***

"You're right, I misspoke. I don't want you to be polite about it. I want you to use me however you want. Make me your whore." Rhys was panting slightly, lifting his hips to follow Eskel's hand and get some friction against it. He was at least as hard as Eskel by now.

He answered Eskel's raised eyebrow with one of his own. "So. Are you going to just talk about it or are you actually going to _do_ something?"

***

Rolling over Rhys and off the couch Eskel caught Rhys’ ankles and brought them over the edge with him. Making quick work of the button and zipper on Rhys’ pants Eskel shoved his hand inside fondling Rhys’ cock. “Grab the back of the couch.”

As soon as Rhys obeyed, Eskel worked his hand under Rhys’ back twisting his fist in Rhys’ shirt there and hauled him up. Up onto his knees, forcing his chest against the back of the couch. Yanked Rhys’ pants and boxers down to his knees and smacked his ass hard.

“You wanna be my whore?” Reaching in between Rhys’ legs Eskel circled his hand around the base of Rhys’ cock and balls. Pulled them towards himself until Rhys had to shuffle uncomfortably to accommodate the stretch. Another slap to the exact same spot, then one to the other side of Rhys’ ass.

“If your my whore, how come you’re not showin’ me my hole?” The pressure around the base of Rhys’ cock and balls grew incrementally. Eskel ran his fingernails over the red handprint, stark on Rhys’ pale skin where he’d struck him.

***

The combination of the ache in his balls, the pain from the spanking and Eskel's low voice was perfect. Rhys shuddered, pressing his face against his forearms. 

Unbidden, a snarky reply materialized and Rhys half turned to look at Eskel over his shoulder. He arched his back to bring his ass up higher even though it pulled even more on his cock and balls.

"Oh, I'm sorry. We're done talking now, are we?" 

His words were immediately followed by Eskel's hand landing hard on his ass, each impact loud, the pain sharp and biting. Tears stung at Rhys' eyes and he blinked them away. 

It wasn't enough to wipe the fangy grin off of his face. He had never acted like this to Eskel before and it was _fun_. But he didn't want to push too far just now and obediently reached back to pull his ass cheeks apart and show Eskel what was his.

It put all his weight on his chest and knees and he struggled for balance. His own fingers digging into his flesh turned the sharp pain into a deep ache, the skin hot under his palms.

***

A tug on Rhys' balls brought his displayed ass a hair closer to Eskel. Pressing his face in between Rhys cheeks Eskel spoke deep and gravelly. "This belongs to _me_." Teeth grazing lightly over Rhys' hole Eskel took a deep breath.

Mouth traveling down to Rhys tightly held balls Eskel nipped the skin on one. A sharp pinch that made Rhys jerk. " _These_ are mine." Lastly Eskel ran a single fingernail down the length of Rhys' hard cock. "An' I _own_ this cock. You. Will. Not. Deny. Me. _Anythin'_." Eskel's last word was punctuated by a hard bite to Rhys' ass cheek, hot tender skin trapped between his teeth.

Licking over Rhys' hole, Eskel nibbled the skin around it. It contracted, tightening and lessening under Eskel's tongue until he sealing his lips over it, sucking at it. Licking into Rhys when his body softened, Eskel pushed his tongue as far as he could, tasting and taking what was his.

When he pulled away Eskel sucked on his own fingers and sunk them into Rhys' ass without warning. Up to his knuckles, he worked two of them in, one hand still gripping Rhys' cock and balls to keep him from pulling away. The way Rhys' back bowed in front of him was enticing and Eskel couldn't wait to do the same with his cock.

***

Rhys gave a hoarse moan at Eskel licking him and opened himself wider, spreading his legs as wide as he could with his pants shackling him. 

The ruthless, possessive side of Eskel he had triggered was thrilling, even more so because Rhys had no idea how far Eskel would go. There was an element of unpredictability to this that made it volatile and just the tiniest bit scary.

When the fingers pushed into his ass, roughly breaching his hole, Rhys yelped and gripped the couch harder. The sudden stretch brought a moment of pain but not too much. Enough to strengthen the volatility of the situation and to wind the coil of lust in Rhys' groin tighter.

"Please, I need more-" Rhys was breathless, barely getting the words out.

***

Suddenly Eskel let go of Rhys' cock and balls. Gave his balls a swift flick with his fingers, then brought that hand down on the more neglected side of Rhys' ass, squeezing the flesh without lifting his hand up.

"What you need isn't what 'm after." Dipping his head down, hand still gripping Rhys' hot ass cheek to spread it open, Eskel licked around his fingers. Fucked them roughly in and out of Rhys. "'M after what's mine, an' 'm gonna enjoy it."

Standing back Eskel watched Rhys' greedy body take his fingers. Shaking and moaning through it until he couldn't stand it anymore.

Cursing the lack of forethought at leaving the lube upstairs Eskel pulled his fingers out and landed one last smack to Rhys' ass. Crouched down and shouldered Rhys' full weight on himself. Rhys shirt fell up around his head and his pants still dangled around his calves as Eskel stood up and strode toward the stairs.

***

Trapped by his own clothes, Rhys kept still while he was being carried. He couldn't suppress a tiny giggle at being picked up this easily and casually and carried off like some maiden getting kidnapped by a villain.

Eskel threw him on the bed and Rhys bounced, throwing out his limbs as best as he could to keep from rolling. He struggled with his shirt to keep it from strangling him and his braid got in on the fight, caught in one of the buttons on a sleeve.

He froze when Eskel's shadow fell over him, having just won the shirt fight. Rhys gave him his best wide-eyed look, slightly panicky but not too much.

***

Pants already unzipped, Eskel had shoved his hand inside them while he watched Rhys struggle with his shirt. Cupping his balls, his thumb stroked the base of his cock— hard and pressed up flat against his abdomen.

The way Rhys froze when Eskel approached the bed made him want to growl. Instead he let go of his cock, pulled his shirt over his head gracefully. Wadding it up, Eskel pitched it at one of the leather chairs on the other side of the bed. When he reached the nightstand it was swiftly followed by his pants.

Lube finally in hand, Eskel stroked himself hard and fast, covering his cock. Crawling on the bed he captured Rhys’ legs in his other hand and bent them over Rhys’ head. Pressing them to one side of it while smearing what lube remained on his hand over Rhys’ entrance. 

Rhys’ sharp intake of air when he did it did pulled a quiet growl out of Eskel this time. Slapping Rhys' ass Eskel lined himself up and spread his knees wide for leverage. “Told you, this ‘s mine. ‘M gonna fuck it ‘til’ m done with it. Then ‘m gonna fuck it again jus’ ‘cause I can.”

The sight of Rhys’ pants still around his calves stoked something deep and needy inside Eskel. This wasn’t about Rhys, this was about _him_ taking everything he wanted. One hand on those pale ankles so close to Rhys’ wide eyes, Eskel grabbed the iron bedframe with the other. Putting all his weight behind his thrust until Rhys’ body gave way, mercifully submitting under the pressure, Eskel didn’t stop until he was rooted all the way inside Rhys.

The way he’d bent Rhys’ legs up and to the side trapped Rhys’ cock out of view between his legs and his body. Eskel couldn’t see if Rhys was still hard or flagging after the brutal thrust and he didn’t really even care. Hips already pumping at a hard fast pace, Eskel breathed heavily. Staring down at Rhys’ eyes Eskel found the perfect rhythm meant to do nothing but bring him his own release. “Come if you have to, but ‘m gonna fuck you again, an’ again, an’ I don’ care if it feels good for you.”

Already Eskel was chasing the edge of his pleasure. Rhys' noises, and the tight hot slickness squeezing him pulled him closer.

***

Rhys had his breath pushed out of him by Eskel's weight and sucked down air in short gasps between thrusts. It got harder the more Eskel sped up but Rhys didn't struggle, let Eskel take him.

Each thrust into his ass stung against his skin where Eskel had spanked him, probably left bruises. Arms thrown out to the side, Rhys grabbed at the sheets, fisted into them. With his cock squeezed in between his thighs and his stomach, Rhys could get enough friction to keep himself hard but not enough to come and he whined.

The whine cut off suddenly when Eskel picked up the speed even more and Rhys didn't have any more breath for it. He grasped blindly at Eskel, holding on to him with his neck arched and his face buried in the sheets.

***

Rhys grabbed at Eskel. His gasps were getting progressively lighter and more airy as Eskel let himself get swallowed whole by his lust. Making no effort at all to slow himself down, or drag out his pleasure, Eskel fucked Rhys ruthlessly.

The fact that Rhys laid folded underneath him, neck bared invitingly and whining like a needy whore only served to make Eskel want him more. Eskel let go of the bedframe and wound Rhys braid in his hand, tugging at it and leaning his whole body over Rhys. Claimed his mouth open in a silent cry, then nipped along his jaw and down to his neck.

Biting and sucking and licking at the smooth skin there, Eskel rutted into Rhys like a lost man. And for a moment he was. Until his body tightened up and he emptied himself into Rhys, pressed flush to every bit of skin he could find. Eskel growled his pleasure into Rhys’ neck, and held himself still inside of him. “ _Mine._ ”

***

By now completely out of breath, Rhys squirmed a little under Eskel. With Eskel's full weight on him, and forced to contort himself, he couldn't fill his lungs and he could sense a cramp in the making.

Sluggishly, Eskel propped himself up and let go. Rhys untangled himself, Eskel's cock slipping out of him, and rolled on his side, kicking his pants off for good.. He stretched his legs and sucked down air until his pulse had returned to normal.

Rhys turned on his back again, reached down to slowly tease his own cock. Just a little, not trying to make himself come. Only showing himself off. He put his arm behind his head so he could look up at Eskel easier and curled his lips in a smirk. Holding Eskel's gaze, Rhys canted his hips and let a finger slip inside his hole, slicked up by the cum leaking out of it.

***

“Fuck.” Arousal plummeted from Eskel’s chest to his groin at Rhys’ display, hot and hard.

Eskel’s cock was still limp between his legs but that did nothing to stop the raging need to claim Rhys again that still gnawed at his mind. “Keep your hands off that cock. It belongs to me.” Throwing a leg over Rhys’ to hold them open, Eskel ran one arm under Rhys head, laying over Rhys’ there, trapping it.

Possessively kissing Rhys’ mouth Eskel wanted to consume him. Bit at his lips, and sucked one into his own mouth. His own finger joined Rhys’ easily pushing into Rhys’ hole and Eskel shuddered at the sensation of his own cum, wet and slippery all over Rhys’ ass.

Slowly grinding his groin into Rhys’ hip Eskel nibbled his way along Rhys’ jaw, sucking dark marks into his neck. All the while he teased his fingers in and out of Rhys’ ass, well fucked and loose. First one, then two. Spreading them apart, letting his cum leak out and then rubbing it into Rhys’ skin. When he was done Rhys would smell like him for _days_.

That thought alone made Eskels cock twitch with life again. The sudden desire to press it against Rhys hand-warmed ass rose up and Eskel pulled away to put a hand on Rhys hip and shoulder. Rolling him like a log, Eskel took satisfaction in the surprised oomph it knocked out of Rhys.

Eskel rubbed his hand over Rhys ass, beautifully colored and warm to the touch. Rhys moaned loudly at the caress. Eskel spread Rhys’ legs and knelt between them. Lowering himself until he could lay his half hard cock on one of Rhys cheeks. The heat was glorious and Eskel groaned.

Leaning over to reach for the lube pressed his pelvis hard into Rhys ass and drew a sharp gasp from him that was musical to Eskel. He stroked his cock a few times, slicking it up. Setting it in the valley of Rhys’ heated ass cheeks Eskel rolled his hips and his cock jerked at the sound Rhys made when it slid along in between them. One hand on each side Eskel pressed Rhys warm flesh against his cock and slid between it again, reveling in the sounds Rhys it forced from Rhys.

***

It was exquisitely frustrating. Rolled over on his stomach, Rhys' cock was trapped under his body and the way Eskel held him down, he couldn't even rut into the mattress. Eskel's hands on his ass squeezed hard into the tender skin, drawing painful moans from Rhys.

Grabbing the sheets in front of him, Rhys propped himself up on his elbows, bending his back. He knew perfectly well how nicely that brought out his muscles, the tattoos shifting over them. 

When Eskel drew back far enough, his hardening cock snagged on Rhys' hole and then glided over it, leaving it pulsing and empty. Rhys whined softly, louder every time this happened.

***

The arch of Rhys’ spine was enticing and one of Eskel’s hands roamed up it, cock still sliding hotly along Rhys’ ass. Eskel’s thumb caressed the back of Rhys’ neck, fingers bent possessively over the top of his shoulder stopping just short of his collarbone.

Eskel bent down, licking Rhys’s back between his shoulder blades. The steady vibration of his medallion where it had swung against the bear tattoo on Rhys’ back buzzed in the back of his mind.

Growling quietly, Eskel wanted to bite at Rhys’ shoulder, suck dark marks there and claim him. But he wasn’t in the mood to take his hand off Rhys’ ass for the balance it would require. Instead he settled for another squeeze of Rhys’ ass and the rough moan it resulted in.

“You’re a needy whore aren’t you?” It hadn’t escaped Eskel that Rhys was whining to be filled again. He would get it too. Maybe more than he thought. Eskel thrust hard against Rhys, catching his hole again at the thought, wondering how many time he could fuck Rhys before he’d want to stop it.

Sliding his hand along Rhys shoulder, Eskel reached under him, grabbing his other arm and pulling it out from under him. Rhys’ torso twisted and he landed on his side at the same time Eskel lifted his own hips up to allow the movement. Flipping Rhys' upper body on his back Eskel pinned Rhys’ wrists above his head with one hand and bent his knees holding them flat to the bed with the other. 

Hips on their side, Rhys' ass was Eskel’s for the taking again and he didn’t hesitate. Fucked right into Rhys in one long deep plunge, pulling back a fraction and hammering the last bit back in before resting there. Fuck, Rhys felt like heaven and he was all Eskel’s. 

With short sharp thrusts Eskel took what he wanted. Spread out over Rhys, arms stretched wide to hold him unmoving in the position Eskel wanted him in. Uncaring about his weight on Rhys’ wrists and thighs as he held himself up, he fucked those last few inches into Rhys over and over again. 

Eskel only cared about how slick it was, his own cum mixed with lube making the glide even more heady. How loose and welcoming Rhys ass was after already being claimed once, ready to take him again.

***

Rhys arched up under Eskel, pressing up into him. He didn't try to squirm out of the hold even though Eskel had grabbed his wrists hard enough to leave bruises. It was too perfect, bruises were the least of his worries.

Again, his cock was being neglected and he couldn't even touch himself or move in a way to find friction. The only stimulation it got was rubbing against Rhys' own stomach when Eskel thrust into him and that was much more frustrating than satisfying. 

Still, the icy hot ball of pleasure in Rhys' groin built and grew until it burst, flooding his mind and body. Rhys turned his face into the sheets, half hiding under his arm, mouth open in a silent cry. His body arched up again, much harder, muscles twitching. Hot cum spilled over his stomach, ran down his flanks. 

Every thrust into his ass made Rhys cry out and whimper, only adding to what was too much right now. He would have rolled away if Eskel hadn't held him down. As it was, he could only hold on and endure until Eskel was satisfied. Rhys bit his own arm, fangs digging deep into the skin without breaking it yet.

***

The room and everything in it brightened around Eskel. He stared down at Rhys, pupils dilated wide as white hot arousal flooded his body, completely mesmerized by the sight before him. Rhys struggling with overstimulation, whimpering and trying so hard to give Eskel whatever Eskel wanted to take from him sent his lust soaring higher.

“Fuck. Yeah.” Eskel pressed his face close to Rhys’ skin. Inhaling deeply, he scented the air, took in the smell of Rhys’ cum mixing in the air with his own and their sweat. “You couldn’t help yourself could you?” Hips punching forward into Rhys in a methodically rhythm, Eskel spoke, low and growly, only slightly out of breath. “Jus’ had to come on my cock. It was so good.”

Eskel’s last few thrusts were hard. Brutal and solid. Hips slapping into Rhys’ ass before he stilled with a grunt. The tension draining from his arms where he held Rhys, Eskel’s grip weakened as his orgasm faded.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to get hard again as fast the third time as he had the second Eskel sat back on his heels. Gods Damn, Rhys looked like a feast in front of him, all fucked out and covered in cum. Chest rising and falling dramatically Rhys sucked in air, clearly trying to bring himself back down to earth. And he _wanted_ a third time.

Spreading Rhys’ legs, Eskel brought one over his head and settled it on the other side of him. Now seated in the middle, he scooted back and laid on his stomach. Bracing himself with his arms on the outside of Rhys’ hips, Eskel trapped Rhys’ lower body there.

At first Eskel started slow. A warm lick along Rhys’ belly, slowly trailing down. Tasting Rhys’ cum and letting the fine tremors of Rhys’ body resonate in his. Eskel sucked long and deliberately at the junction of Rhys’ hip and groin, determined to leave a mark there.

When Rhys’ heartbeat was no longer flying in his chest like a caged bird Eskel licked along the length of his soft cock. Rhys’ body jerked under Eskel uselessly. Held in place by Eskel’s weight directly over his hips Rhys let out a strained cry. Ignoring it, Eskel wrapped his lips around the head of Rhys’ cock, swirled his tongue there, flitting it under the foreskin.

There was no mercy in Eskel’s exploration. Every inch of Rhys’ cock belonged to him and Eskel was determined to taste it, feel it on his tongue, in his mouth. Hard or soft, did not matter to Eskel. Only that it was his to enjoy.

***

Rhys' body shook uncontrollably and he struggled to not seriously fight Eskel, buck up under him with all his strength. Every touch to his cock was excruciatingly painful, set all his nerve endings on fire. But he didn't want it to stop either. He had asked for this and he wanted Eskel to take everything he wanted.

When Eskel licked under the foreskin, Rhys arched his back up, hands gripping the sheets. The first time, he managed to bite back a loud cry. The second time, Rhys gave a scream, grabbing on to Eskel's arms with all his strength. What Eskel did broke all of Rhys' control over himself. He knew that Eskel would have bruises from this, but he couldn't stop himself.

Eskel didn't stop either and Rhys wrapped his legs around him, trying to keep himself as still as possible. To have as much contact as possible, skin on skin. His cock had gone completely soft and Eskel had taken it into his mouth whole, tongue pressing hot against it. Rhys whined and moaned and cried out, wishing it was over and that it would never end.

***

The pain and pleasure mixed in Rhys cries, loud in Eskel's ears, was like fisstech. Blurring his other senses and pulling him along in a current of passion. Swallowing around Rhys’ cock Eskel reveled in the softness of it on his tongue, salty velvet with a hint of bitterness. 

Eskel licked over the sensitive tip with a broad flat tongue again, only the head trapped between his lips, as Rhys struggled with himself underneath Eskel. Legs squeezing tightly around Eskel’s chest and fingers biting into his arms. It was everything Eskel wanted from him. 

Sucking Rhys back in, Eskel rested his head to the side on Rhys’ hip, soaking in the sensation of Rhys’ limp cock pulsing in his mouth and Rhys' body shivering under him. Thready moans drifted into Eskel’s ears next to the rabbit-quick beating of Rhys’ heart. Eskel let one hand wander up to trace a circle around Rhys’ nipple. With firm suction, Eskel drew his mouth off of Rhys’ cock finally with a satisfied pop.

With a kiss to Rhys’ hip Eskel instructed him to stay where he was. Rhys did not look like he was in anyway ready to move, and the sight of that made Eskel smirk. Untangling himself, Eskel rolled off the bed and jogged up the stairs. 

Wringing out a washcloth in hot water Eskel wiped himself down. He was a mess of sweat and cum. Looking in the mirror he caught a flash of his hair, and there was even some cum there, so he ran the washcloth over that as well. 

Glancing at the controls on the large tub Eskel was pretty sure he understood the symbols on the buttons, they didn’t look all that different from the ones on the ork’s tub. He pressed what he was mostly certain were the right ones for a hot bath that would stay that way. If it didn’t, he could reheat it himself. Pitching the used washcloth into the hamper he wrung out a new one for Rhys and headed back downstairs to wipe him clean as well.

Dragging the washcloth over Rhys’ chest Eskel might have paid a little extra attention to his nipples, rubbing over them in swirls before moving down to chase away the last drying bits of cum from his flanks. Eskel was gentle with Rhys’ cock. Only a cursory swipe, lightly gripping it through the cloth, then trailing down to clean his thighs. 

Draping the cloth over the iron footboard Eskel crawled up the bed. “This isn’ over. I told you I’d fuck you ‘til I was too tired to continue an’ ‘m not tired yet.” Eskel looked up at Rhys from under his eyelashes, stalking up closer, licking over Rhys’ nipple before biting down. “You’re gonna get me hard again. ‘M gonna put my cock in that pretty mouth an’ keep it there ‘til you do.”

Swinging a leg over Rhys’ chest, Eskel straddled him. Took hold of the headboard and rubbed his finger over Rhys’ lips. “Open up.”

***

The pull of exhaustion wasn't quite as strong now, after a moment of rest. Rhys was only too happy to obey Eskel's order, and gave a lick over the head of his cock before taking it in his mouth.

He slid his hands up Eskel's thighs and around to his ass and nudged him forward until Eskel rose up on his knees, spreading them, so Rhys didn't have to struggle to reach him. Rhys let Eskel's cock slip out of his mouth so he could lick at his balls and behind them, tonguing at his hole. Opening his mouth wide, Rhys sucked first one, then the other of Eskel's ball into it, licking at the soft skin. 

There was still a faint taste of salt when Rhys took Eskel's cock into his mouth again. Dipping his tongue under the foreskin, Rhys chased it with just the head between his lips. Careful of his tusks and fangs, he let Eskel slid in further, alternating between sucking and quick flicks of his tongue. 

Reaching up, Rhys gave a gentle squeeze to Eskel's ass, let a finger trace down the cleft and between the cheeks. He found Eskel's entrance and rubbed a fingertip over it. It was only a soft touch with no pressure behind it, meant to tease and arouse. Another finger ghosted over the sensitive skin behind Eskel's balls and up and down his thighs.

Rhys appreciated the slower pace right now, he needed a break. The rough handling and harsh tone was fun and he wanted more of it, but he also wanted to be able to savor it. And he had been getting dangerously close to being too overwhelmed to do that.

Right now, Eskel had wound down a little and seemed content with letting Rhys take care of him. Rhys fully intended to wind him up again, maybe push a little until he got possessive Eskel back.

He moaned softly around Eskel's cock at the thought of Eskel holding him down, fucking his mouth with no concern for anything but his own pleasure. And his imagination offered up more scenarios of what might happen, with Rhys on his hand and knees and Eskel taking him, fucking him into the mattress. Rhys shivered and sucked harder on Eskel's cock.

***

Eskel let himself ride the salacious path of self-indulgence Rhys was offering him. The brush of Rhys’ tongue on his skin sparked a need in him. Stirred excitement in his groin, and sent it surging through him when Rhys teased against his hole.

Flexing his fingers on the bedframe, Eskel slipped a hand down to grasp at Rhys’ hair. It was messy and the braid had gone loose from all his rough handling, only making the sight of it more arousing when Eskel took a quick glance down. Eyes falling closed, Eskel rocked his hips a little, offering Rhys better access and moaning none too quietly when he was rewarded with a talented mouth engulfing one side of his sac.

Sure that Rhys was chasing the taste of him, Eskel’s face fell into a half smirk at the thought. His cock was back in Rhys’ mouth, that perfect tongue seeking him out, licking at him, playing with his foreskin, and Eskel settled into a gentle barely noticeable roll. 

Searched for the soft arousal offered in Rhys’ mouth, winding it tighter with urges to push back at Rhys’ hand. Teasing and taunting but never giving him any satisfaction. Never slipping into him. Each rock between the two drove Eskel higher, cock twitching to life in Rhys’ mouth, sluggish but interested.

***

Rhys matched Eskel's rhythm, following him as he rolled his hips. The taste of salt on his tongue grew stronger. He kept dipping his tongue under Eskel's foreskin every time Eskel pushed into his mouth again.

Pulling Eskel's ass open with one hand, Rhys used two fingers on his hole. He tugged at it, rubbed over it in circles, pressed his fingers over it to have it pulse against him. Eskel's hand in his hair gripped tighter and Rhys gave a quiet moan, tipped his head into it. 

In his mouth, Eskel's cock grew harder and Rhys licked along the shaft. It nudged the back of his throat when Eskel canted his hips and Rhys suppressed a gag, did it again on purpose.

***

Growing more aroused by the minute, Eskel flexed his fingers, fist opening and closing on the iron rail in front of him. Pulling his cock out of Rhys’ mouth, Eskel released his hair to cup his own balls. Lifting them out of the way, Eskel shifted forward and set himself lower over Rhys’ face.

“I wanna feel your tongue. Don’ be shy like a bit ago, I want all of it. All of you.” Eskel rested his cheek on the cool iron rail. Mouth open, staring almost without seeing into the bright room.

The first firm press of Rhys’ tongue against his ass drew a quiet gasp from Eskel. The next pass he closed his mouth, almost silencing his noises save a needy hum. Balancing on his knees Eskel dropping his other hand down and stroked himself in time with Rhys tongue.

It swirled around his hole. His ass pulled open by Rhys’ hands, Eskel sank down, a satisfied grunt slipping out when Rhys finally managed to work his tongue inside. The strong muscle of it probing inside him and stretching his rim. Withdrawing and licking around his hole before dipping back in, pressing further, and Eskel rolled his hips into it. Working his shaft Eskel teased his cock until it was stiff in his hand again.

The temptation was strong to ride Rhys’ face, to trap him there, grind his ass down on Rhys’ mouth and force his tongue as deep inside him as Eskel could get it, coming all over Rhys’ face. But Eskel also wanted to push back inside Rhys’ ass, feel Rhys’ body flutter around him loosely, trying to tighten up after being fucked so well. Eventually, that desire won out.

Eskel was agile as ever, swinging his leg away from Rhys’s shoulder and ending up kneeling next to him. “Up.” Voice gone harsh with arousal again, Eskel ordered Rhys around. “Gonna fuck your ass again. Wanna see it. On your hands an’ knees, put it in the air for me.”

***

Rolling over, Rhys hurried to obey the order. He swallowed hard, the bitter taste of precum in his mouth. This was exactly what he had wanted and his heart was already galloping along in his chest.

He spread his knees wide and reached back to pull his cheeks apart, presenting his hole to Eskel. With his weight supported by his shoulders, Rhys turned his head to his side so he could breathe and look up at Eskel over his shoulder.

"Please, take my ass. It's yours - shove your cock in and fuck me. " He arched his back to bring up his ass even higher, showing himself off, muscles tense and already breathing hard. His own cock laid flush against his stomach, rubbing against it with every breath and giving Rhys little shocks of pleasure. After Eskel sucking on it, it was still overly sensitive. 

Rhys decided he was going to try and touch himself once Eskel was distracted. To push a bit harder - he knew perfectly well he wasn't allowed. It was tempting to misbehave and see what kind of reaction it got, to give Eskel an excuse for even harsher treatment. The fact that Rhys couldn't tell how far Eskel would go made it only more exciting.

***

The way Rhys put himself on display so casually made Eskel’s heart leap in his chest. Fuck. He wanted to do just that. To take Rhys without any tenderness or thought for Rhys’ own enjoyment of it.

It was _his_ to take Eskel realized, he could. But first he wanted to look, to see, smell, and taste himself on Rhys. Eskel growled low and unchecked, hands covering Rhys’ over his ass. Spreading them apart Eskel dipped his head and inhaled deeply. The scent of Rhys’ clean skin had an underlying note of his own musk and salt. 

Rhys’ hole was puffy and red. Begging to be licked and gently bitten. Owned. 

Eskel darted his tongue out. Rhys’ rim was hot under it, salty and earthy. It tasted like him and Rhys mixed together and it was _perfect_. Hunting that taste Eskel licked harder, wider, pushed deeper, and Rhys’ body gave way to him. Already slack from Eskel fucking him earlier, it opened easily and Eskel delved inside as far as his tongue would reach.

A quiet sigh from Rhys belied how much he enjoyed Eskel’s seeking exploration. Licking out and around the ring of muscle Eskel moaned, gave a quick nip to the side of Rhys’ cheek. 

Unable to wait anymore Eskel grabbed the lube, clicked the top open and slicked his cock up again. There was no need to put any on Rhys, as sloppy as his hole already was with Eskel’s spit, leftover lube, and cum.

With a hand on Rhys’ lower back Eskel rammed himself into Rhys in one smooth movement. Sighing in satisfaction at the welcoming slick hot slide, Eskel drew back right away and plunged back in again. Rhys had to throw his hands up, pushing himself up on his hands and knees to keep from being shoved up the bed with Eskel’s thrusts.

Grabbing at Rhys’ hips hard to hold him in place Eskel set a brutal pace, with no accordance for Rhys. It was fast and deep and hard. It felt fucking amazing and Eskel closed his eyes and fell into it. “Fuck. You’re so wet. Full of me, an’ I _love_ it.”

***

Rhys pushed backwards into Eskel's thrusts, leaning into him. With Eskel holding him, there was nowhere else to go, and Rhys didn't want to move anyway. Every thrust punched his breath out of him with a loud moan.

He was fucked raw already, his hole sensitive to the point of pain, but he didn't care. It only made everything more intense, heightened his pleasure. The fact that Eskel didn't care whether it hurt or not, how reckless he took Rhys - it was exactly what Rhys had wished for.

Balancing his weight between one hand and his knees, Rhys grabbed his own cock, touching himself just the way he needed it. Long strokes along the shaft, twisting his hand around the tip, teasing it with his thumb. Together with Eskel's cock deep in his ass, it was perfect.

After the long time of teasing and overstimulation, it only took Rhys a few seconds to push himself over the edge into his orgasm. He arched his back, his whole body tensing up with it. Cum spattered the sheets and his stomach and chest, leaking from between his fingers. Shuddering and barely staying upright, he was helpless in Eskel's grasp. 

There was no way he wasn't getting punished for this. Dread and delight in equal measures made Rhys shiver with nerves. He gave a soft whimper and twisted his head to look at Eskel over his shoulder. He probably should have tried harder not to grin but couldn't find the strength to care.

***

Lost, chasing the heat in Rhys' ass, Eskel plunged his cock into it over and over. Rhys shook and moaned around him. Ass squeezing down on him, spasming wildly, Rhys' every muscle trembling around his cock and Eskel _knew_ instantly that Rhys was touching himself.

Eyes darting open just in time to see Rhys' cum covered hand hit the sheet and save him from collapsing. Eskel growled, possessive and nettled into anger. Rhys looked over his shoulder with a grin and Eskel reacted without thinking.

Reaching for Rhys' cock Eskel pinched the oversensitive head between his fingers— hard. They came away wet with cum and he grabbed Rhys' jaw, squeezing roughly and forcing his fingers inside.

"Did I give you permission to come again?" Eskel's voice was low and cool, a dangerously calm tone. "No. I didn't. You're here for _my_ use, not your own fun. I was kind enough to let you come once an' now you've turned into a greedy slut."

Pushing Rhys' face away Eskel gripped his hips again, resumed his punishing pace. "Hands on the rail. I wanna see them. Keep them there until 'm _done with you_."

***

Grabbing the bedframe, Rhys held on and leaned into Eskel. Almost immediately, his arms started to ache from the struggle to hold his upper body up. The frame was too far away for him to put his weight on it and he had to actively balance himself, all while Eskel fucked into him hard enough to push him forward.

The taste of his own cum was bitter in his mouth but he couldn't bring himself to regret disobeying Eskel's orders. With Eskel in this mood of barely contained violence, it was too much of a thrill to provoke and taunt him. 

Rhys' cock hurt from the punishing squeeze Eskel had given it, a hot pain that he wanted more of. Maybe he'd get it but he was at Eskel's mercy .

***

With Rhys’ hands in sight Eskel was satisfied that he'd quickly be able to put a stop to any further misbehavior. The luscious squeeze of Rhys’ body around his cock as Rhys tried to stay balanced each time Eskel fucked into him was only a gratuitous benefit. Amazing for Eskel and likely painful for Rhys. A reminder that he was being punished, even if Eskel wasn’t about to stop his own enjoyment to do it.

After having already come twice, Eskel wasn’t on the precipice the way he had been the last two times. He was content with the build up and then cresting of pleasure as it washed over him again and again. Everything so good, so perfect, all _his_.

All of it was only made better by the whimpers and cries he knocked out of Rhys with each heavy thrust. Sending him rocking forward towards the iron bars he gripped, knuckles turned white, arms shaking with exhaustion. 

So lost in it all was Eskel that his orgasm caught him by surprise. The next wave pulling him under instead of washing over him like all the rest. With a feral growl he wrapped both arms around Rhys' hips. Short hard thrusts, rocking him in Eskel's arms as Eskel rode out his own pleasure, fucking every bit of it into Rhys.

***

Rhys desperately clutched the bedframe, head hanging down between his arms. Caught between the deep ache in his arms, the sharp pain of Eskel fucking into his sore ass and the pleasure it forced upon his exhausted body and mind, Rhys was too overwhelmed to do more than hold on.

When Eskel finally slowed down and stilled, breath hot on Rhys' back, Rhys slumped in his hold. The only thing keeping him upright were Eskel's arms around his waist and Rhys' own fingers hooked around the iron bar. He couldn't quite figure out how to let go even when Eskel told him he could. 

Uncurling one finger after another, Rhys finally released his grip. His arms buckled when he tried to put weight on them to prop himself up and he fell forward into the mattress. With a quiet moan, he reached back to touch Eskel, or at least tried. The best he could do was make his arm flop in the general direction. 

A giggle welled up and turned into a laugh, a little hoarse and out of breath. Rhys blinked up at Eskel, content and fucked out. "I _like_ it when you get possessive with me."

***

Curling around Rhys, Eskel wanted to keep him safe now. "Yeah? I was gonna ask if you were alright, but you seem rather happy." Eskel gave a soft kiss to Rhys' mouth.

After a few minutes when Rhys' giggles seemed to be getting taken over by yawns, Eskel carefully extricated himself. Rhys put up a defiant struggle, whining at the loss. "Shh, 've gotta hot bath with your name on it upstairs."

Scooping Rhys up bridal style, Eskel hugged him to himself. The trek up the stairs was mercifully short- the way Rhys shivered spoke of a chill now, not arousal. Inside the bathroom though they were enveloped in warm steam. Without hesitation Eskel strode over and stepped into the large tub, Rhys still in his arms.

A quiet grunt came from Rhys, arms trying ineffectually to wind tighter around Eskel's neck as he sank down into the hot water. With a few gentle movements Eskel had Rhys rearranged, legs spread wide over his own, chests resting together. 

Eskel carefully teased apart the remains of Rhys braid. Dipping him backward to wet his hair, Eskel braced one hand between Rhys' shoulder blades to hold him steady, smoothing his hair through the water with the other. Once he'd washed Rhys' hair Eskel twisted the water out of it and arranged it over Rhys' shoulder, letting Rhys rest against his chest again.

Drawing random shapes in soap on Rhys back, Eskel let his tenderness be felt. Calm in every motion, the exact opposite of how he'd behaved earlier. Hands wandering down to Rhys ass cheeks to ghost over the flesh there and sooth it. Scooping up handfuls of water on the way back up to rinse Rhys' back with.

***

Under Eskel's hand, Rhys slowly relaxed. The warmth of the bath wicked the tension and soreness out of his muscles. He leaned forward heavily, his head on Eskel's shoulder and savored being touched so gently. Water running over his back, fingers tracing over his skin and Eskel's heartbeat loud in his ears - it all lulled Rhys to sleep.

He woke blearily when Eskel picked him up and stood under his own power for long enough to get toweled dry. By the time Eskel was carrying him downstairs, Rhys was nodding off again and once in bed, all he knew was pulling Eskel close and sighing happily before he remembered nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Info:  
> mentions of past abuse/rape  
> rimming  
> rough sex


	9. A Thousand Locks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And then, how did Geralt even expect this to work. Duncan could immediately see all the complications this would bring, driven by his worry about Geralt who after all was not so at home in this world that even casual conversation didn't hold danger._  
>  _All of this came together in a split-second and a sudden flood of adrenaline that made Duncan sit up straight, dislodging Geralt._  
>  _"What? No." Duncan's tone was flat and angry even to his own ears and Geralt recoiled visibly._  
>  An innocent request has unforseen consequences.

Geralt had fastened himself to Duncan’s side, leg thrown over Duncan’s, arm wormed under Duncan’s shirt and across the muscled expanse of chest in front of him. With a light blanket covering them to their chests, Duncan’s shoulder had provided the perfect pillow for the old movie they’d been watching on the trid when they dozed off together on the couch— sections pushed together to allow more room to cuddle.

Sometime later when Geralt stirred, he found Duncan already awake, watching him with a content look on his face. Already Geralt liked this. The chance to spend a whole weekend alone in the apartment with Duncan. Not that he didn’t love Eskel, and enjoyed Rhys’ simple casual affections, but it felt special to have all this uninterrupted time alone with Duncan.

To be able to share all the things that were only between them without having to plan around everyone else’s schedules. To think that Duncan might fuck him here on the couch, no fear of anyone disrupting them. That idea, of Duncan and of sex, reminded Geralt of a thought that had bounced around in his head a few times when they’d been wandering the city.

“Hey, you know I was thinking how you are bi, like me.” Geralt let his fingers knead gently into Duncan’s chest. “And those two are not at all. I wonder if sometime we could meet a woman, someone nice, and interested in both of us. It might be exciting to explore that side of things together, you think?”

***

The suggestion blindsided Duncan. He had been following his own thoughts, mostly to what they would have for dinner and if he was going to suggest to Geralt to go out later to explore London by night. 

His first reaction was panic, at the thought of even mentioning this to Rhys and seeing the hurt on his face. After all, the last time Duncan had been with a woman, he had cheated on Rhys and Duncan didn't really want to bring this up again. Even though Rhys had taken it in stride. It had been the least of their worries at the time.

And then, how did Geralt even expect this to work. Duncan could immediately see all the complications this would bring, driven by his worry about Geralt who after all was not so at home in this world that even casual conversation didn't hold danger. 

All of this came together in a split-second and a sudden flood of adrenaline that made Duncan sit up straight, dislodging Geralt. 

"What? No." Duncan's tone was flat and angry even to his own ears and Geralt recoiled visibly. 

"Fuck, I'm sorry, that came out wrong. We should talk about this." Duncan reached for Geralt's arm, trying to reassure him.

***

 _No. That came out loud and clear, thanks._ Geralt thought to himself. Unwilling to draw further ire from Duncan out of nowhere, Geralt let Duncan put his hand on his arm. Even the touch made him want to be sick though.

Duncan's touch— which he'd come to associate with so much comfort and trust. How had Geralt fucked this up so bad in so few seconds? "It's alright. It was just a passing thought. Don't worry about it."

After what he hoped was an appropriate amount of time with Duncan staring at him and holding his arm, Geralt gently removed it. "I need to use the restroom." 

It was a lie and under any other circumstance— before — Geralt would have felt bad about lying to Duncan. But right now he was pretty sure there were plenty of things that were true for him about their relationship that weren't for Duncan and Geralt couldn't bring himself to care.

Moving quickly down the hall Geralt passed right by the bathroom and went into the bedroom, hitting the button to lock both doors behind him. Throwing himself on the bed Geralt wondered why he'd even asked. He should have known better. 

He'd gotten too comfortable with Duncan. Started to believe what they had together was special and that Duncan would always listen and value his opinions. How wrong he had been. A fine shiver took over Geralt's body as he lay on his side on the big bed and his eyes ached with tears held back.

***

Duncan had still been trying to get his words together to explain to Geralt why he had reacted this way because things were very clearly not fine. He didn't believe any of Geralt's words but he also didn't hold him back. That wouldn't have made things better.

 _Fuck. Well done, asshole._ Duncan wanted to punch something, angry at himself for fucking this up so badly and quickly. He waited a little to see if Geralt would come back. With Rhys, Duncan knew to give Rhys space after a fight for a few minutes, and Rhys did the same for him. It worked to let them both calm down and gather their thoughts.

With Geralt, it apparently didn't. Duncan got up and walked over to the bedroom door. He had heard the lock click and Geralt hadn't unlocked it yet. So Duncan had to be content with knocking.

"Geralt? Please talk to me?" Nothing but silence from behind the door. And Duncan _knew_ Geralt knew he was there, even if he hadn't said anything.

With his pulse racing and a sick feeling to his stomach, Duncan leaned his forehead against the door. "Geralt?"

Still no answer. Duncan sat down, leaned his back against the door and crossed his legs in front of him, shivering a little. He waited. 

When he couldn't stand it any longer, he tipped his head back. "Geralt? Please. Don't be cruel. Let me at least explain."

***

Duncan calling his name kept interrupting Geralt’s attempts to at least get it together enough to fake his way through the next few days. Alone with Duncan. It wasn’t like he had anyway to get back to the portal. To get home. To really escape the situation. The sensation of being trapped was crushing down on Geralt like boulders in a collapsing cave.

Cruel? Really. Did Duncan honestly believe Geralt was the one being cruel here? Rolling up off the bed Geralt stormed over to the door and hit the lock. He didn’t bother to stick around to see what Duncan had to say. Just went back to the bed and laid back down with his back to the door.

At least Yen had the decency to be straight forward that she didn’t care about his ideas and let him leave to lick his wounds alone. Duncan seemed set on rubbing it in further and Geralt braced himself to listen to the all the reasons why his idea was stupid.

***

Duncan scrambled to get up. When the door remained closed, he slowly opened it and sneaked inside, like he was trying not to disturb Geralt. It stung to see Geralt lying with his back to him, unmoving.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, only half-turned towards Geralt, Duncan sought for words again. He had to swallow first, his throat gone completely dry, and his voice was quiet and hoarse.

"I'm sorry for shooting you down like that. There's --the suggestion reminded me of some things. Stuff I don't like thinking about. But you couldn't know that and it doesn't make it a bad idea. Just a complicated one." Duncan cast a glance towards Geralt's back. Still unmoving and silent.

"I reacted badly and I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I panicked. And that makes me rude and angry. But you don't deserve any of that. I fucked up, I'm sorry." He wanted badly to reach out and touch Geralt but he didn't dare to.

***

“It’s fine.” Geralt’s voice was as loud as normal and he was glad of that, but his tone was completely flat. “I’m the idiot for thinking it was alright to make a suggestion, that you might listen to it. It’s not an important idea. I already told you it was only a passing thought.” 

Chest tightening, the anger in Geralt was rising up no matter how hard he fought it. This was why he had gone into the bedroom. Not wanting to make things worse. Geralt didn’t want to yell and scream at Duncan. Except that he _did_.

“You can go now.” Voicing rising with a waver in it, Geralt still didn’t turn over. “I don’t need to hear more. I get that I am not worth telling _why_ , just telling no. I guess I am not worth a lot of things I thought I might be to you.” By the end the real bite of anger was seeping into his voice, quiet and seething.

Fuck. Geralt hated this. This realization that nothing had changed. That he was still a freak even now, here, in a world with so many people so strange no one gave him a second glance with strange eyes and white hair. Shaking as angry tears welled in his eyes, Geralt squeezed them shut harder. He needed to go out swing his sword, kill something, burn off this horrid energy building in him. But he was stuck here. In London, in an apartment, with Duncan.

***

"I _am_ telling you why. I would tell you the whole long story but I don't think you'd listen right now. And I'm not going. I'm not walking away from you and I'm not letting you walk away from me, not like this." Duncan didn't raise his voice to match Geralt's and he had his doubts he could have if he had wanted to.

He had no idea where all of this came from and he desperately wanted to understand and make it better. "I should not have just told you no right from the start. But I'm not perfect . My panic got the better of me. That doesn't mean I think you're an idiot for suggesting this. I'm an idiot for reacting like this, more like."

"Why do you think you are worth nothing to me? Where does that suddenly come from?" Duncan was casting about, completely at a loss at how to solve this.

***

"Because I-" So many things jostled in Geralt's head. Struggling to make it out of the gates of his jaws, things he wanted to yell at Duncan. Forcing his voice lower Geralt opened his mouth again, unsure where to start. "-you know what? Because when someone gives a shit about you they are supposed to _listen_ to your ideas. Care about your thoughts. Not dunk you off their lap and remind you that you're a freak better off paying for a two pence whore."

Geralt fell silent. He felt marginally better having said it out loud and yet horrendously worse because he did _care_ about Duncan. So much. And that made this all so much worse. Pulling his pillow down Geralt hugged it to stifle his crying.

***

The silence stretched between them while Duncan tried to figure out what to say. Geralt's words had cut deep but there was so much unfairness in them that it fired Duncan's anger. And he did not want to be angry right now.

"What's your plan now? Do you want to break up with me because I fucked up, without even giving me the chance to put this right? Don't tell me you have never said anything in sudden anger you did not mean that way. If you expect that of me, then I can't do it. I'm not that perfect."

"You get to be angry at me for shutting you down like this. You do _not_ get to put words into my mouth. I care about you and I never thought you were a freak, not once. But if two words are enough to wipe away everything we have, or that I at least thought we have, with no chance to even talk about it, then I don't know what to do. I really don't." Duncan curled his legs under him and turned fully to Geralt, or rather to Geralt's back. It shook with silent sobs, just as hard as Duncan was shaking from sheer adrenaline.

***

The thought of not having Duncan around ever again stabbed at Geralt, making him roll over and stare at him through watery eyes. “I don’t want that. I never wanted this. I don’t have a plan— I just want to curl up in a ball and be held.” Sniffing through his tears Geralt looked up at Duncan, sure he’d fucked it up more just like he’d known he would if he let Duncan in and opened his mouth. 

“I want _my_ Duncan back. The one who doesn’t hurt me. The one I can trust to help me calm down when I feel like a freak. I wasn’t trying to put words in your mouth, you asked why I felt like I didn’t matter to you all of a sudden. I was trying to put my feelings into words and clearly I failed at that too.” Pinching the bridge of his nose Geralt squeezed his eyes closed again, not wanting to look at Duncan any longer if he was just going to leave him anyway. Like so many before had. “This is why I came in here. Whatever I have to say when I feel worthless and abandoned isn’t going to do anything but make the fight worse.”

***

Duncan took a deep breath. "I don't want you to leave either. And I'm for sure not going to walk away from you over this." 

He slowly reached out to Geralt, running a hand over his arm. When Geralt rolled into his touch, Duncan pulled him into his lap and held him there.

"I'm sorry I made you feel worthless. That isn't what I think at all. But you walked away and shut me out before I even had a chance to explain why I reacted so badly. I can still do that, if you're interested." Duncan rubbed circles on Geralt's back with his palm.

"And I want to know why this made you spiral so hard. So we can find a way to handle things better. I honestly didn't think you still hated yourself so much."

***

“Please don’t leave me. I don’t want that. It was just an idea.” Curling up in Duncan’s arms Geralt shuddered at the thought and the loneliness it held. “I don’t hate myself—not like you think—but it’s hard to remember sometimes, that I might be worth something to someone, and easier to believe what I’ve been told in the past. That what I think or say has no importance in the grand scheme of things.”

“I didn’t mean to shut you out, it’s just the only way I know how to deal with feeling like this. Someone I care about so much does something that hurts me and I just _know_ it’s because I wasn’t worth it to them. Worth listening to, worth explaining it to, worth their time. Whatever.” Heaving in air into his lungs Geralt held it in. Counted to five. Tried to stop the tears. 

“And if I don’t get away from it all, it’s going to get ugly fast. Just like this did. It’s best if I can leave, go away on my own for a few weeks, and when I come back maybe they’ll want me again. Have forgotten whatever it was I did that fucked it up in the first place.” The hand on his back was helping Geralt concentrate. Slowly bringing his breath down to its gentle rhythm which had finally gotten his crying under control.

***

"That's a shit coping mechanism and I should know, I have enough of my own." Duncan was still lost in the face of all this and grabbed on to the most obvious thing.

"I didn't react like this because you're worthless to me. You're important to me and I don't want you to leave. Not for a few weeks and not for good. And when you told me that this relationship was not what you thought it was, I was frightened that you would leave, just walk away for good." Pulling Geralt closer, Duncan moved so he could lean against the headboard.

"If you had tried to just walk out, I'd have followed you. Walking away solves nothing. I know how attractive the idea is, done it often enough myself. It comes back to bite you in the end." 

"Don't do this to me when I do something that bothers you. I'd rather hear what I did right away so I can fix it instead of worrying myself sick for the next couple of weeks. And if you ever fuck up with me, don't run either because even if I'm mad at you in that moment, I still want to talk to you and solve the problem. It's fine if you want to not be in the same room for a bit. Rhys and I do that when we fight, we need a break from each other. But that's five minutes. Maybe half an hour. Not a couple of weeks. That thought is _terrifying_." Duncan pulled a tissue from the box on the nightstand and wiped away the tears on Geralt's face, traced his cheekbones with a fingertip. He still was shaky and out of balance, still not entirely convinced Geralt wouldn't leave.

***

“Then why _did_ you get so mad all of a sudden?” Geralt couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of Duncan wanting to talk to him even if he was mad. “Everything seemed so good. We were comfortable and happy. You said ‘ _if two words was enough to wipe away everything we had_ ,’ and I know I said more than two but what was so horrible about it that made you dump me on my ass like yesterday’ trash?”

Geralt was far from calm. The tears had stopped but he felt fragile, weak in the way a bad battle left him when he’d downed too many toxic potions. “Because shutting down my suggestions, without a second thought and pushing me away like that is a sure way to make me feel worthless. Guaranteed to make me want to run away and avoid everything until the pain is gone.” 

Geralt wound his arms up around Duncan’s neck. “Maybe it is a shit coping mechanism, but it’s the only one I have. I’m not perfect either.”

***

"I panicked. Mainly at the thought of explaining this to Rhys because the last time I slept with a woman, I cheated on him. It wasn't a good time for us. And I don't want to reopen those wounds, but I'd need to tell him." Duncan shrugged unhappily.

"It scared me. And fear makes me angry. That's one of my shitty coping mechanisms. I'm not saying it's a good reason for snapping at you like that but it's what happened. And I would have gotten my shit together to explain it to you and to figure out a solution. But by then you were already on your way out."

With a sigh, Duncan ran a hand through Geralt's hair. "Never assume that I don't want to talk to you. I know it's hard for you but at least give me the chance. Trust me enough that I can fix what I fucked up."

***

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I do mean it when I say it isn’t _that_ important to me. We don’t have to even consider it if it upsets you that much. I- there are things about it that would have needed to be right for me like I said before and I was trying to leave it open for you to say if there were things you needed or didn’t want. You don’t need to tell Rhys if we don’t want to do it.” Geralt shrugged in Duncan’s arms.

“I only suggested it because I had thought of it. And it’s something we have in common with each other, but not Rhys or Eskel. That’s all.” Geralt could drop this, would drop this if Duncan was truly not interested or if it would cause any kind of issues for him and Rhys. There would be other things, later, that they could share if Duncan didn’t really want him to leave.

“And I can try to not walk away but I can’t guarantee what will come out of my mouth if I don’t. I’m not usually in a nice place in my head when this happens.” Geralt sighed heavily, exhaustion already tugging at his mind. “I’m gonna think you don’t want me, or that I deserved your anger. And unless you touch me, tell me repeatedly that that’s not true until I actually _hear_ it, it’s going to last a while.”

Tipping his face up to look at Duncan, Geralt faked a smile and let it fall from his face just as fast. “Even right now, it’s going to take a while for me to drag myself out of this mood.”

***

"Let's talk about that idea later. Because I want to talk about it and figure out if I want to do it. I do like the idea of sharing this with you. I probably would have reacted less badly if I really didn't want to do it. If that makes sense." Duncan stretched and moved Geralt into another position, but didn't let go of him.

"I'd rather have you yell at me or tell me things that hurt to hear than have you walk out on me. Because that takes away every chance of figuring shit out. I'm not saying it doesn't suck because it does, but I'd rather have a shit time and learn something from it so it doesn't happen again or not so easily than just ignoring the problem until it goes away. It never goes away for real." 

He sunk lower onto the mattress, tired and lightheaded. "And I'd rather have you not get eaten alive by self-hate if there's anything I can do about it. If you let me."

***

Geralt went with Duncan, tugged lower down on the bed, but still wrapped up in those arms he’d come to associate with security. “I feel better when you hold me. It’s a tangible reminder that you don’t really want me to go away, to just get out of your hair. But I can’t stop that I really wish I hadn’t brought it up.” 

Rubbing his cheek against Duncan’s broad chest Geralt took another tissue from him. Tried to clean up his eyes. “It was a stupid thing to ruin a day over. And it was a _good_ day. I went from thrilled about how great it was to have all this time to ourselves to— this.” Gesturing to himself and his face with one hand Geralt huffed. 

“I feel like shit. And I’m sure you were planning on other things for the evening, like making dinner. _I_ had plans.” Geralt laughed wetly, rolling his eyes at himself. His plans had decidedly not involved dinner, but had involved his mouth. Oh well. Unlikely now in this mood.

***

"It's _always_ a stupid thing. The stupid shit Rhys and I had fights over, you wouldn't believe. But this isn't really about your idea and I'm glad you brought it up anyway. Really, let's talk about this later, when this has settled. Because I want to at least talk about it and see if I want to do this. I can't decide that now." Duncan stuffed another cushion behind his head so he didn't crick his neck looking at Geralt.

"I feel like shit, too. But that will go away with some time, rest and food." A delivery drone passing by outside caught his eye. "Listen, I don't feel like getting up any time soon and I don't feel like cooking. How about we just stay here for a bit, maybe have a nap, and I'll order us pizza later. Pizza is good for the soul. It's like a piece of dough and you put whatever you like on it, cover it in ungodly amounts of cheese and bake it. You get to choose what you want on your pizza and it gets delivered all ready to eat."

***

Curled up with Duncan Geralt felt safe again. There was a lingering anxiety about if Duncan really wanted him, really cared. "You're right. This feeling will go away with time. I always feel this way when I fight with someone I care deeply about." 

Licking his lips Geralt could taste the salt of his dried tears there. "I trust you. It's me I lose faith in when this happens." Geralt shifted on Duncan's chest to get more comfortable. "I'd feel better if you stayed here with me. We can order your cheese bread thing. What do you normally put on it?"

Shifting the conversation away from the sections stuck on repeat in his head _did_ help. And Geralt had never known a person who could move on from a fight so quickly.

Into things that could and would show Geralt that he had choices. Already Duncan was right back to including him on decisions about what to do with their day, what to eat. It eased a little bit of the grip of anxiety around him.

***

A nap, a gigantic pizza with everything and a night's sleep later, Duncan felt reasonably okay. They were still a little careful around each other but found back to their easy tone and affection around each other.

Everything seemed fine again.

 _I guess I am not worth a lot of things I thought I might be to you._ It was stuck in Duncan's brain and he couldn't stop thinking about it. It unsettled him how quickly Geralt had gone there. 

Geralt had said that he trusted Duncan and just lost trust in himself. But Duncan still worried. He did nothing but his best with Geralt, and if all that meant nothing and couldn't stop Geralt feeling this way, then maybe it wasn't enough. Maybe Geralt lied to himself about how much their relationship did for him.

After carrying it around with him for two days, always at the back of his mind, Duncan decided to tackle the problem. It was their last evening alone before Eskel and Rhys would come back and Duncan wanted it out of the way. Duncan hoped it wouldn't go too badly.

With a deep breath, he patted the couch next to him for Geralt to sit, after they had had dinner up on the roof. One look at Duncan's face was obviously enough to make Geralt immediately concerned, but he did come and sat down.

Every sentence Duncan had constructed in his mind, every idea how he should bring this up was gone.

"So. Uh. Okay, back when we had the fight, you said that you thought you're not worth to me what you thought you were. And I know you said that this is not about me but about you losing faith in yourself." Duncan took a deep breath, this was _hard_ and Geralt looked so worried already, all tense.

"It unsettles me how quickly you went there. Because I can't help but feel that I should have been able to catch you better. That it shouldn't have taken just me saying no to you in a harsh tone. I get being pissed at me for that, that's fair. But it did so much more and I don't know what to do." With his hand on Geralt's thigh, Duncan drew random shapes with his fingertips, seeking comfort in the touch.

"I'm pretty sure this will happen again. I'll try not to let it, but I _know_ me and my temper. I have snarled at Rhys like this too many times to count. It's getting better, but I don't know that it will ever go away. And that scares me." Duncan shrugged, he had run out of words.

***

A little bit of the tension that had whipped up in Geralt's body like a bad Kaedweni winter storm scuttled away. The look Duncan had given him when he patted the couch made it entirely too clear it wasn’t for a cuddle. Geralt thought he could handle this though. He might not enjoy it, and Duncan might not either. But at least this was the kind of communication he’d come to trust from Duncan.

Yet, Duncan looked _scared_. “Would you mind if I sat on your lap while we talked? It helps me think and makes me feel safe.” Geralt didn’t crawl into Duncan’s lap immediately like he was extremely tempted to, but he did draw a little circle on the back of Duncan’s hand. The one drawing lazy shapes on his leg.

Duncan spread his arms to Geralt, an open invitation. “Sure. I'd like that.”

Geralt wasted no time in taking it, either. Sitting sideways on Duncan’s thighs and resting his head on one massive shoulder while he put his words in order. “Have I ever told you about Yen?”

“The woman you and Eskel broke up over for a long time?” Duncan’s face showed his confusion at the apparent change of subject.

“Yeah.” Sighing heavily Geralt prepared to relive the less savory aspects of the relationship Dandelion so loved to warble about.

Shaking his head Duncan wrapped his arms around Geralt so he wouldn’t slide off his lap. “That’s all I know about her. Oh, and that you were sort of with her off and on when you first met us.”

Geralt put one hand over Duncan’s where they were clasped together holding him in Duncan’s lap. “I don’t expect you to be perfect. Maybe you will say a few angry words again sometime. And your right, it didn’t just make me angry, it did a lot more-” pausing to get his resolution to explain this to Duncan back up, Geralt looked around the room, “-in fact it didn’t really make me angry at you at all at first. It hurt me, and then made me angry at myself. I only got angry at you when I started thinking about how much I trust you not to treat me like Yen did.”

Thankful that Duncan didn’t interrupt his rambling confessions Geralt plodded forward. “I trust you to do _this_. To talk to me, and to let me talk back. To _listen_ , and take what I say as worthy.”

“Yen-” Geralt picked at his own fingers for a second, “-never did those things. I loved her, and she thought she loved me. But the world revolved around her, her views, her plans, her choices, her ideas. And no others had merit. Not even mine. It didn’t matter if it was sex or what to eat for dinner. She never knew when to stop. If she thought something was absurd—getting off on pain—she might use it to get what she wanted from you, but you’d Gods Damn well know she thought you were weird for it.”

***

Duncan squeezed Geralt gently. He so obviously hated talking about this and it so obviously still hurt. It made Duncan want to protect him and he had the urge to tell Geralt that he understood, no need to explain further.

But he also thought that it might be good to get it all out in the open so he didn't say that. He settled for a soft growl at the back of his throat.

"You do know neither me nor Rhys think that, yes? Not about liking pain and not about anything else." Duncan nosed into Geralt's hair and sank deeper into the couch so he didn't need to hold Geralt with both arms and could use one hand to rub his back.

***

"I know that— right now while I am thinking straight— I believe that and I _cherish_ it. Even the first time I met you I felt like it was more alright for me to be my honest self with you, that you wouldn't judge me for that. And you've proved that true." Geralt relaxed more into Duncan, taking comfort in the touch he offered.

"So when you dismissed my idea out of hand, said a few gruff words at me. It threw me right back into that same mental place that I spent two decades learning to hide in with Yen." This time Geralt took a long pause. Swallowed hard against the admissions that were coming. "Like you, I'm not perfect. And I know you're not Yen. As much as I hate to say it though, if you hit those soft spots, my ability to think straight will disappear in an instant and I will go to that ugly place in my mind."

"The one that tells me maybe I imagined how much you care. That I am an idiot. That my thoughts, desires, interests… are all worth nothing." Wrapping his arms around Duncan's neck Geralt buried his face there, breathing deeply to try and regain his composure. "That ugly place has nothing to do with you, only my past. Even if my mouth drags you into it when my rational mind isn't around to stop it."

"It's remarkably like what happened when that first time we played went bad. And the roots are the same." Duncan's hand had come up to slide through his ponytail and Geralt tipped his head into the motion. "Yen always let me walk away. She didn't care if I didn't come back for weeks or a month. I would wallow in that place most of the time I was gone too. Don't let me do that."

***

"I won't. If you had walked out of the door, I would have followed you. Even if we had been on the Continent. What, you think I just let you walk away like that? Unless you told me that you needed some time, some distance. And when you will be back. But just letting you vanish like that? No. Too stubborn for that." Duncan gave a light tug on Geralt's ponytail and went back to rubbing circles on his back with his palm.

"There's a place like that in my mind, too. It's fed by anger, but when I go there, I don't exactly listen to rational thought either. It doesn't happen all that often any more, I used to be so much worse. So yeah, I get it." 

"I'd rather have you talk to me from that ugly place in your mind that have you walk away. I won't pretend it doesn't hurt to hear it, but I'll live. Especially now that I know what's going on. Anything I can do to get you out of there faster when it happens? Apart from not letting you walk out?" Hoisting Geralt higher again, Duncan curled around him, drawing up a leg.

***

"This, honestly." Geralt let out a contented sound at being rearranged by Duncan. "Touch me, and not just a little, wrap me up in your arms. It really is a physical reminder for me. It grounds me, brings me back to the right place in my mind."

"If I go lock myself away, follow me. Open the locks. I know you can. Don't try to talk to me rationally, just hold me and tell me I'm all those things to you until I start to listen." Stretching into Duncan's hold Geralt nosed up along his neck. "Show me, physically, that you're _my_ Duncan, and slowly my mind will catch on."

***

"I can do that." Duncan pushed his fingers into Geralt's hair from below, pulling out the tie and carding his fingers through it, untangling the strands.

"I'm sorry I asked if you were planning to break up with me. It's just-- It really felt like you were already on your way out. If you had walked out, if you had been just gone, I would have assumed I got dumped. I'd still have tried to talk to you, but that would have been what this meant to me. I'm glad it didn't happen like that."

He was quiet for a moment, savoring Geralt's weight and warmth against him. "Don't feel bad about bringing this up. Us having a threesome with a woman. Or anything else. I want to experiment and find things that are special to us. Can't do that if we don't talk about what we want to try."

***

Geralt tensed up ever so slightly when Duncan brought up his suggestion again. "I thought you were suggesting we _should_ break up when the thought had never crossed my mind. Only the desire to run away for a few weeks."

Laying on Duncan, Geralt searched for the right way to say what he needed to without hurting Duncan. "I loved how much I felt like I could suggest things, or tell you about my fantasies. I won't lie. I do still wish I hadn't mentioned it. I feel like I wasted a lot of this time we had to be alone together with it."

Pushing his head into Duncan's fingers Geralt let himself enjoy them there. "I hope the feeling that I can be that open comes back. I think it will take a while longer."

***

"It's not like this is the only time we ever have alone together. I don't think it's wasted at all. These things were important. Yeah, it hurt and it was hard and I had imagined this differently. Sure. But I feel better for knowing all of this about us now." Duncan slowly let himself fall, dragging Geralt with him until he was on his back with Geralt on top of him.

"I kinda wanted it to be a surprise, just tell you to pack one morning. But I got us a place to spend time at, couple of hours from London. Nothing much around there except landscape and wild ponies. Because I want us to have a place that's just ours, that we don't share. We can go there once Rhys and Eskel are back. If you want." He looked up at Geralt, unsure of the reaction he was going to get.

***

Pushing up, Geralt supported his weight on his elbows at the back of the couch. He was sure his eyes were glittering with happiness because his face was stretched in a smile that easily reached his eyes. "Just for us?"

Geralt beamed at Duncan. "That's all I really wanted. Something special for us to share that they didn't have."

Pulling his other leg up Geralt straddled Duncan's lap and dove in for a kiss. "Of course I want to go. I admit, I sort of thought horses were only in zoos now. So ponies only make it better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Notes:  
> people failing hard at communication due to reasons of anxiety


	10. Deepweed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You're green. An' the floor is gone." Eskel giggled. Taking a long last drag on his joint Eskel held it up in the direction of where he knew Rhys was but now there was only a green shimmer flaring with a mix of other colors. Strings of them stretching away into the darkness fading to wisps of nothingness._  
>  A much needed talk, and a well-deserved high.

After breakfast and a walk, they had opened all the windows and the kitchen door on the ground floor. The weather was sunny and almost without wind and it was nice to hear the waves run up the beach from where they were sitting on the couch. A few sparrows chirped in the bushes outside, busily looking for food. 

Rhys handed Eskel a mug of green tea and kept a mug of sweet milky black tea for himself. He took a sip and put it down on the table, turning sideways on the couch so he was facing Eskel.

"I enjoyed yesterday a lot. My arms and my ass are still sore but I don't care. And the bruises are spectacular." Rhys grinned - Eskel had looked a little horrified at the handprints and fingerprints he had left on Rhys body, but his unease had been chased away by Rhys admiring them in the mirror.

"Do you want to do that again, once in a while? Because I would. Not too often, it's exhausting. But I do like it, seeing you like that and pushing you to see what happens." Strands winding around his fingers, Rhys played with his hair and was very aware he was giving away that he was nervous. They would need to have a talk he wasn't looking forward to if they wanted to keep doing this and as much as he would have liked to procrastinate, it wasn't smart to do that. Eskel needed to know.

***

"C'mere." Clearly Rhys had enjoyed the hell out of himself last night, so it concerned Eskel that he was so hesitant now, even though he'd been the one to bring it up. Mirroring Rhys' position Eskel spread his legs, one knee cocked up and resting against the back of the couch. Patting the cushion in front of himself he invited Rhys over.

Scrambling over Rhys sat in front of Eskel, lean sideways against his chest, mug of milky sweet tea still in hand. "I don' often let myself go like that, 'cause it's sorta wild an' I feel like 'm a bit outta control. But I _did_ enjoy it, a lot— with you. I trust that you would say somethin' if I started to take things too far. I'd be able to get myself under control then, but not everyone would speak up so I can't let myself go that far with everyone."

Using his free hand Eskel ran his fingers through Rhys' hair, then cupped his jaw and turned his head to kiss the corner of his mouth. "You were a _shit_." Laughing softly Eskel smiled. "An' I didn't mind that at all, lettin' you push me to that rougher, more primal side of m'self. I wouldn't mind playin' that way again once in a while."

"But _only_ if you're really comfortable with me like that. I know 'm not gentle when 'm in that place." Eskel took a sip of his tea, leaned back and gave Rhys room to think.

***

Now that they were talking, Rhys' anxiousness quickly settled. He grinned and put his tea down so he had his hand free to slip under Eskel's shirt for comfort.

"I've practiced being an annoying little shit on Duncan. And other people. It's a well-honed skill. And I don't mind you being rough, at all. I can take that and I _want_ that." Rhys turned his face into Eskel's chest and breathed in his scent before sitting up a little straighter again.

"I trust that you would stop if you went too far and I told you. But there's something you need to know that might happen. Back when we first played, I asked you not to say 'shut up and take it' to me. Because that carries bad memories. It's possible that there are other things - phrases, a tone of voice, something else - that will have the same effect and I just haven't found them." Taking a deep breath, Rhys kept talking so he didn't have time to doubt himself about saying this.

"And I don't know how that will look. Last time, I shut down completely. I couldn't even give my safeword because I had too much to do with not losing control and attacking Duncan over it. There's no way of knowing if that won't happen again. Part of why I behave like a brat is so you will notice the difference if I shut down. But I can understand if you'd rather not risk it." Rhys propped himself up on the back of the couch so he could look at Eskel, waiting for his reaction.

***

In a way Eskel was relieved to hear that Rhys was more concerned with losing his shit while they played than he was with Eskel being rough. It had worried him, from the moment he’d woken up in the morning and seen the marks he’d left on Rhys without outright _meaning_ to. When Eskel marked someone up, it was intentional. These, though, had been without thought. Rough and controlled by his own base desires Eskel had taken what he wanted, leaving the imprints of his sexual binge on Rhys’ body.

“You sound like when I first met you. An’ my answer is the same. ‘S not a problem for me.” Shrugging Eskel wound his arm around Rhys’ back, kissed his forehead and then sat back pulling Rhys with him. Sipping his tea, Eskel hummed thoughtfully before continuing. “I’d notice if you got quiet. You’re nothin’ like Geralt when we’ve played like this. He’s very quiet, falls so far into his head I can never really let myself go like I did with you ‘cause I need to watch ‘im. He’d never say anythin’ an’ I have to be careful with him.”

“You’re nothin’ like that. I can tell you’re still in there, pokin’ at me. ‘S _almost_ enough to be distractin’ but not quite. If that stopped I’d notice right away.” Eskel shook his head at the thought. “I don’ think I could miss that change. Even if I let myself get pretty lost in the moment. An’ I _could_ stop, would stop. Check on you. I can’t play like this unless I know you want me to treat you like that. I jus’ can’t. I _need_ that permission.”

Setting down his tea, Eskel wrapped Rhys in a full hug. He had to ask and he wanted to make Rhys as comfortable as possible— remembering how Rhys had stiffened up that first time they played at Eskel’s hand on the side of his neck. Nosing into it, Eskel kissed the side of Rhys neck now. “You told me not to tell you to ‘shut up an’ take it’ an’ that first time we played I scared the shit oughta you by touchin’ your neck. I know someone hurt you. You don’ have to tell me if you really don’ wanna but I’d like to know what happened. I jus-”

Pausing for a moment Eskel tried to put in to words why he wanted to know, or needed to know. “-I think it helps me. To know how to keep you safe, but also jus’ to know who you are. How you became you. I do understand if ‘m askin’ too much.”

***

"You're not." Rhys sat for a minute while he thought how to best tell this. He sat up, untangling himself from Eskel because he didn't want to think about this while being hugged. But he kept one hand running through Eskel's hair and petting his neck.

"I met this guy, Graham. I was barely nineteen, he was a couple of years older. And he was amazing. Charming and interesting, already running his own business. He was interested in me and that is one hell of a drug, especially from someone who could have his pick. We got together and when it was time for him to go back home, he asked me to come with him. Which I did." Rhys grabbed his mug and held on to it for warmth, took a drink. He looked down at it while talking, not at Eskel.

"I was in a country far away from home and I knew no one but Graham. All our friends were Graham's and they were nice enough but they didn't see what was happening. But I was really good at hiding it, too."

"Graham was controlling and abusive. He isolated me and he made me doubt myself. Everyone liked him and only I ever saw this side of him, so maybe it was me who was at fault. I don't believe that now, but I did then. And he could be perfectly nice and attentive and caring, as long as things went his way. I took care that they did."

With a shrug, Rhys continued, the shame over how hard he had tried to make this work still hot in his stomach. "Graham rarely was actually _violent_ , in the sense that he rarely hit me. He threw and destroyed things - mostly mine. My plants. He criticized and belittled me and would yell at me with the slightest provocation and it was hard to tell what would set him off."

"I was terrified of him but I also loved him. I want you to understand that - it wasn't horrible all the time, we had a lot of good times and memories. That doesn't make him any less of an asshole, but it explains why I stayed as long as I did." Rhys smiled, a bit shaky. This was hard, although it got easier the longer he talked. And it used to be so much harder. There had been a time when he had kept all of this carefully buried and unearthing it had been very painful.

"He'd smack me around sometimes. I believe that he never really lost control because those slaps and punches were a little too well aimed and there were too few of them. Enough to scare me, not enough to make me lose control. He knew about Bear and my pact with Bear. In the end, he did go too far and I got angry. Angry enough to jump him and use my fists and my magic on him. He survived that, but barely. I ran, went back home to my family. I don't know what happened to him and I don't care." With a deep breath, Rhys put down his mug and finally looked up at Eskel again, anxious about his reaction.

***

"Definitely no one's fault but his. He found prey, sunk his teeth in an' worried at you 'til he thought you were too wounded to run. You proved him wrong 'cause you're strong. Is that what you mean when you say you might lose it an' try to kill me?" Eskel wanted to reach out and hold Rhys. To remind him that the little family they'd built around themselves would never treat him like that. Would gladly kill anyone who did— not that Rhys would let them— but maybe they could torture them a little at least, give the scare of a lifetime.

Rhys had removed himself carefully from Eskel's arms though to talk and Eskel wouldn't break that line drawn in the sand. If he needed space to talk that was alright too.

"I can kinda understand that, I've gotten so overwhelmed by emotions before that I think with my fists an' someone ends up dead when I didn't intend it. It's a horrible feelin', I go a long ways to make sure it doesn't happen anymore." Eskel shrugged at that, it wasn't an admission he'd planned on making today.

A drink of tea later, Eskel continued. Asked what he really still needed to know the answer to. "'Shut up an' take it' though, I don't think that's somethin' he said to you when he threw you plants, or even when he actually hit you." 

Eskel hated to ask because he felt like he already knew the answer and it hit so close to home, though Rhys didn't know that. There was nothing for it but to be blunt though. "That's somethin' someone says when forcin' themselves on someone. Did he rape you?" Eskel stared down at his tea.

***

"The short answer to that is yes. The long answer is yes but not like you think. Would you believe I didn't even realize it for the longest time, because I didn't? Duncan had to point it out to me. Mostly, it was me giving in or offering sex because it made sure Graham was in a good mood. He never was violent or threatened violence, except in that implied way." Slowly reaching over, Rhys took one of Eskel's hands and intertwined their fingers.

"Shut up and take it, that _was_ something he said to me during that last fight. When I tried to curl up into a ball in a corner, begging him to stop kicking me. That was more resistance than I had shown in a long time and it pissed him off even more. And the fight was about me saying no when he wanted sex." He was relieved Eskel so far hadn't asked why Rhys had stayed for so long and he hoped Eskel would understand. 

Rhys turned Eskel's hand over and traced circles in his palm while he spoke. "Duncan said that to me, while we were roleplaying. I was immediately back during that fight with Graham, I couldn't get out of that memory. And when I get hurt or seriously threatened, I fight to kill. It's part of the pact I have with Bear. It took all I had not to attack Duncan. That's what I mean when I say I might lose it and try to kill you."

***

"Graham was a predator. Simple as that, an' while it was prolly hard to see from the inside, from the outside it's pretty clear. He used violence to control you. 'Til he only needed the threat of it for you to give in to avoid it. An' sex can be a _very_ effective tool there." Eskel sighed, he'd seen this all too well, all too many times the whole Continent over.

A quick squeeze to Rhys' hand, then Eskel let it go, opened his palm for Rhys to trace on again. He spoke quietly, a little lost in his own mind. "An' rape is rape. Whether it's coerced, forced with implied violence an' fear, lack of ability to agree to sex… how you got there doesn't change that it is rape."

Pulling out of his own shitty thoughts Eskel took his hand out of Rhys' and put his arm around Rhys' shoulders. "This Bear though, I like him. 'M not gonna lie, I think that's a good pact. If you get hurt or are in serious trouble you _should_ fight to kill. Don't fuck around. Jus' put 'em down an' _live_. I'll be careful not to be on that side of your rage." Eskel grinned. Outright pleased to know that if something really threatened Rhys he wouldn't hesitate, wouldn't be _able_ to hesitate, to try and kill it.

Eskel knew that later, Rhys would suffer the guilt and consequences, but at least he'd still be alive to feel guilty.

"'S alright. I think we can play like this once in a while. I like it, you like it. As long as you understand 'm not like Graham— I only enjoy it because I know you want to do this with me. If you didn't, I'd be disgusted by the idea. An' I hafta know you like that roughness from me." Eskel set his tea mug down, it was nearly empty.

***

Rhys sat up straight so quickly he dislodged Eskel's arm around him. "I _know_ you're not like Graham. Do you think I'd let you near me if I thought that was even remotely possible?"

"I can't deny I like playing with this because it feels the same. Dangerous and volatile and I tell myself I have no choice. But of course I have one and it's safe. I trust you to listen to me, to notice when something is wrong. You don't manipulate me into this, we both agree on doing it. It's a way for me to take these bad memories that are buried in me and interact with them safely. It puts them in a new context and that helps. If that makes sense."

Leaning into Eskel again, Rhys wrapped his arms around him. "Love, if I thought you were like Graham, we would not be here. _You_ would not be here because Duncan would have murdered you back in Novigrad to protect Geralt."

***

While Rhys was talking Eskel was reeling trying to think of how to explain that maybe in a little tiny way he was like Graham. Could be like Graham. Without telling Rhys something he didn't want to without talking to Geralt and having Geralt there.

And then Rhys dropped that last bit on him, and Eskel drew back in Rhys' arms to look at him, taken aback. Eyebrows raised and eyes a bit wide at the notion. Not that Duncan would kill someone, Eskel was sure that was a given. But that even back then the orks felt strongly enough about Geralt to be so protective.

It was startling enough that Eskel let the fear of how some things he'd done in the past weren't that different from Graham slip away. He smiled and laughed, leaning into Rhys. Burying his face in the front of Rhys' neck. Completely aware Rhys' comment was serious and happy for it. 

"This 's why I love Duncan. He'll protect Geralt the same as me. I trust him with Geralt 'cause of that, an' it diffuses my jealousy." Taking a deep breath of Rhys' spicy scent Eskel sighed. "An' you jus' called me 'love'. I like it."

***

"I know what I said and you better get used to it." Rhys grinned and bent down to nip at Eskel's earlobe. He pulled Eskel gently around until they were settled on the couch with Eskel on top of Rhys and Rhys' leg between Eskel's. Rhys stuffed a cushion behind his head so the couch would stop murdering his neck.

***

"I think you're an incredibly strong person." Running his hand around the crown of Rhys' head Eskel stopped to tap his temple. "In here. Physically too, but you have a _mind_ of your own an' you use it." 

Eskel settled comfortably atop Rhys, head turned to the side, and ear placed down to his ribcage. "I don' think you'd let someone like that get close to you again; I don' think Duncan would either. What I meant was more…" Eskel sighed quietly searching for the words, "along the lines of what you said: it feels similar to you. Volatile. 'Cause I _can_ absolutely be violent."

"Jus' not with you. Not in _that_ way." Tracing the shell of Rhys' ear with his fingers Eskel, felt certain of his words. He would notice, he would stop. "I like teetering on that edge with you. It's exciting. I jus' meant I need you to know where 'm comin' from. That its exciting to have someone who wants that edge from me 's all."

As long as Rhys knew Eskel didn't think he'd fall for someone like Graham's bullshit again Eskel was content. He just didn't want Rhys to think that that was what he'd meant when it wasn't at all.

***

Rhys pulled Eskel's shirt up so he could stick his hand under it and caress Eskel's back. "I know. It's exhilarating but it doesn't mean you want to go further, or even go there at all."

Drawing a shape between the many scars on Eskel's back. Rhys gave a quiet laugh. "Duncan and I, we have a thing we play where I keep him captive. It's so much about mindgames and manipulation. And I'm _good_ at it. I can see which strings to pull and where the weaknesses are. Not just in the scene, always. I don't want to use that skill on people but it feels great to do it. Frighteningly good. What I do with Duncan is an outlet for that. So yes, I understand playing with things you'd never do otherwise."

***

A little warmth curled inside Eskel. That was exactly what it was. He was a violent person, and that could carry into bed but it didn't, ever. Playing with what it might feel like to let it bleed over a little was fun, and that was exactly what he was doing with Rhys there.

"Yeah, exactly like that." Gods it felt good to have someone who understood his strangest base desires.

Eskel pushed up and closed his lips over Rhys'. Kissed him languidly, enjoying the heat of his mouth.

***

Rhys pulled him close and kissed back, dipping his tongue into Eskel's mouth. When they both had to come up for air, Rhys settled down again, back to drawing shapes on Eskel's back. "I have another thing I wanted to talk to you about. There's a drug, Deepweed, that I am pretty sure would allow you to have astral sight. Only for a couple of hours and you would not be able to shift back to your normal senses. So once you take it, you're committed to this. It's not addictive, especially not when only taken once."

"I already asked Geralt about this and he'd rather not. But I brought some, so if you want to try, we can do that. It's the only way we can share this and I'm not one hundred percent sure it works with you because you were _made_ magic, but I don't think it makes a difference. You're Awakened now and that's what counts."

***

Finger idly tracing over Rhys' ear Eskel tried to imagine Rhys approaching Geralt about the Deepweed. Smirking, he pushed up on one hand and laid his other arm over Rhys' chest resting his chin on it.

"Did Geralt rat me out about doin' fisstech with the succubus an' I jus' don' remember it? I didn't think I was that drunk." The instant curious 'O' that formed on Rhys' mouth followed by his fangy grin told Eskel that Geralt had not spilled those beans. "Hmmn I'll take that as a no." Eskel chuckled to himself.

"No. But fisstech, I really should hear this story don't you think?" That fangy grin was growing ever wider and Rhys couldn't mask his curiosity.

"Witchers don' really have to worry about things bein' addictin' in the way other people do. Toxins, hallucinogens, poisons, even drugs— they just don' have the same effects long term on us? Sometimes ever short term. Well you've seen, try an' get a witcher drunk— it takes a lot." Eskel gave Rhys a small smile, hair flopping in his eyes.

Doing his best to blow it out of the way Eskel continued. "Anyway, the first time I fucked a succubus, I guess she sensed I was a little nervous. Not into female bits. Whatever. So she decided to help me loosen up. Had me snort fisstech an' fucked her fingers into me until I saw stars an' passed out."

Now Eskel was grinning at the memory. Both of the way the colors had left trails in his vision and of discovering his own ass in a way he'd only imagined before. "I've always wanted to know what you see when you slip into your Astral Sight. When you're just lookin' at the world but 'specially when we're interactin', or havin' sex. It always sounds so beautiful an' I'd love to share that with you."

***

"We can do it later today, if you want. It doesn't take that long to set in and it'll last for the rest of the day then. Maybe less, depending on how quickly your metabolism deals with it. We should have a bigger lunch so we can do just snacks for dinner because you won't see what you're eating unless your food is still alive." Rhys giggled at the thought.

With Eskel on top of him, resting his head on his arms, Rhys could see the bruises he had left on Eskel's skin. He hadn't meant to grab him so hard but he still liked the sight of them. He traced their outline with one finger. "I've been meaning to ask, do you want me to cast a spell on your bruises to heal them?"

***

"You really grabbed me good." Eskel grinned at Rhys, the memory of Rhys so lost he couldn't control himself bringing the smile to his eyes, completely heedless of how it moved his scars. "Don' worry you didn't hurt me. I was in a place where I didn't mind at all. Now they're just kinda an annoyance."

Geralt and Rhys _liked_ being bruised in the morning. The same was not true for Eskel. "They'll be gone in a day or two on their own, I heal so fast. If you would _like_ to heal them for me now, I'd let you."

It was a testament to how much Eskel trusted Rhys that he hadn't thought much about it before agreeing to let Rhys cast magic on him. He hated when people used magic on him, always leery they would mess with his mind like he knew they could. Hells, like Eskel himself could.

"I'll even given you a moment to admire them first. No poking though." Eskel threw his best serious face on.

***

"They do look good on you." Rhys wasn't intimidated by the frown he got but only lightly petted the bruises one last time.

Placing his hand over one of them, Rhys concentrated and cast the spell. The vibration of Eskel's medallion and Bear's soft growl shivered through Rhys and a prickle of magic flowed through his fingertips. Under his palm, Eskel's skin grew warm and the bruises shrank rapidly. After a few seconds, nothing but unmarked skin was left.

Rhys ran his palm over the places where they had been. "Alright, all done." As much as he had liked the bruises, Eskel trusting him to use a spell to heal them made Rhys' heart beat faster. He had half expected to be turned down, given Eskel's usual reaction to magic.

"So. Deepweed later?" Wrapping his arms around Eskel, Rhys would have been content to stay on the couch for the rest of the day but he _was_ excited to try this.

***

“Mmm, definitely.” Eskel hummed in Rhys’ arms, content to just let himself be held for a little bit. The verve of Rhys’ magic still lingered on his skin. For some reason he has expected it to be cold. Like icing an injury, but Rhys was so full of life in hindsight the heat Eskel had felt as Rhys healed his bruises made more sense.

And although they really had only been an annoyance to Eskel — he was used to so much worse at times — the bruises had been quite deep. Rhys might not look like he could kick someone’s ass, but he was an ork, and his strength was not to be trifled with. Unless of course you were another ork, a witcher, or a troll.

“If we need to eat a big lunch, can we walk to that pub? And for the record— I don’t eat anything alive unless I have too. I am completely open to you eating me up, though.” Eskel flashed Rhys a wicked grin of his own, head cocked to the side to match his lopsided mouth. There was a distinct twinkle in his eyes.

“You have an unmistakable advantage over that succubus.” Holding Rhys’ gaze Eskel’s grin didn’t falter at all. Eskel wanted to try this. He'd wanted to see Rhys' side of things since the very beginning and now he had the chance if Rhys would go along with it. “You have a cock.”

***

"That is very kind of you to notice, it's one of my best features." Rhys slowly let his fangs show. 

Pushing himself up, he softly nipped at Eskel's neck. "I can certainly provide entertainment should you get bored by staring at all the pretty colors. In fact, I had meant to ask you now, that you're still sober if you want that. I guess we are in agreement then."

~~~~~~

Rhys sprinkled a deliberate amount of the sweet smelling, sticky flower buds on the tobacco and rolled the paper around it all. The resulting joint looked a bit crooked but it would do its job.

They had had a leisurely walk and lunch and Rhys had stocked up on snacks at the little market. Back home at the lighthouse, they had settled down again. Earlier, Rhys had spend some time baking cookies and now, a plate of them was on the table along with some cherry juice. 

He scooted up on the couch again and held the joint out to Eskel. "Alright. That should be enough for you to get you both high and activate astral sight. If it works, you'll probably be able to use astral senses for the rest of the day, maybe six hours or so? And you'll keep seeing things, sensing them, whether you close your eyes or not. That can be a bit unsettling at first. I can sense the same things that you can, so feel free to ask about it."

***

"So I can't escape it even for a second once it starts? Not that I can turn off my oversensitive hearing anyway." A smirk had slipped onto Eskel's face as he took the joint from Rhys.

Rhys offered him a lighter and Eskel waved it away. Crooked his fingers just right, concentrating until a tiny flame appeared. The first drag sat in his lungs like lead, burning and scratching his throat on the way out.

A few more deep pulls on the joint though left Eskel wondering why the first one didn't feel so good. The more he smoked the more relaxed Eskel got and soon his bones felt heavy. They were weighing him down, holding him in place.

Pulling himself closer until he could lean against Rhys, Eskel took a long drag. Held it in his lungs until they burned for air and let it out. He felt light and when he looked down the floor was gone.

Pushing his foot into it, Eskel could feel the floor still, but there was only empty dark space where it should be. Whipping his head over to look at Rhys Eskel gasped. There was a moss green shimmer there instead.

"You're green. An' the floor is gone." Eskel giggled. Taking a long last drag on his joint Eskel held it up in the direction of where he knew Rhys was but now there was only a green shimmer flaring with a mix of other colors. Strings of them stretching away into the darkness fading to wisps of nothingness.

Blinking Eskel saw nothing change. No temporary blankness invaded his vision. "Fuck. That's strange." Laughing again Eskel found he was almost giddy.

***

Rhys grinned at Eskel's obvious delight and took the joint from him, put it down in a saucer. He scooted even closer and gently touched Eskel, ran a hand over his arm, careful not to move too fast.

"The green is my normal colour. Everyone's aura has it, all different. Duncan is a lighter green, like the sea on a calm day. And you and Geralt are both golden, so I think that it comes from the Trials. You can see your own aura, you just need to focus on it. Try looking at your own arm for a start, that makes it easier. And pay attention to your other senses as well, it's not just sight. It's hearing and taste and smell as well, sometimes you even can feel astral currents." Rhys let himself sink into his astral sense to join Eskel.

***

Closing his eyes by habit to concentrate, Eskel snorted at himself. It did nothing. The world around him remained. The deep forest green of Rhys flared up brighter as if the sun was suddenly shining on him and Eskel felt his medallion vibrate.

When he inhaled he was surprised. It smelled like rocky cliffs, wet after a rainstorm, but they were inside.

Eskel reached out to grab Rhys' arm, and almost stopped startled by the flash of gold, before realizing that was _himself_. Grasping at Rhys he giggled a little uncontrollably.

"Wait. What changed? You changed colors. You're lighter now. An' why does it smell like 'm outside on a wet rocky cliff? An' what is that _noise_?" Cocking his head to the right Eskel tried to chase the sound but it merely moved with him.

"'S faint like someone's playing musical glasses far away." Rhys' arm was comforting under his hand. One anchor to the reality he knew lay under this one. It was hard at the moment to tell what was from being high and what was normal for astral sight.

***

"The smell is your medallion. It's always like that." Rhys reach up to touch Eskel's face, traced a finger over his scars. "The sound is the magic caught in your scars. Don't get too close, it cuts. In your mind."

"I'm just using my astral senses, too. Auras change when the person uses their magic. Awakened people have a little brighter auras than other people, too, just by default. If I had cyberware, you could see it and if I taught you, you could see if I was sick and even tell with what." 

Rhys pulled his legs up under him, kneeling on the couch so he could look at Eskel more easily. He kept his hand on Eskel's arm, it was easy to be disoriented by astral senses. "Try using one of your Signs. Focus on where the magic comes from for you, you should be able to see them, although it might take a little practice."

***

"They come so easily, 'm really gonna hafta think about it after all these years." With a bit of effort though Eskel was able to go back to when he first was learning. Trying to pull the Chaos into himself, filter it through his body and put it out into the world as what he wanted it to be now.

A single flame. Eskel watched rapt as something unfolded in his chest— fuck was he out of his own body to see it? He giggled ridiculously as he watched a trace of red gold zoom from his center out along his outstretched arm until it spouted in the shape of that simple flame from his hand.

Flickering mildly, with no breeze inside, it smelled like dry sand baking in the hot sun. "Tha's fuckin' awesome." In a poof it was gone. Eskel extinguished it, and the line from his chest went dark instantly. His signs curling back up in his chest, a living thing waiting to be called back.

"Look!" Eskel waved a golden arm between them excitedly. There were tendrils of Eskel's aura reaching out to mingle with Rhys' and vice versa creating an interesting connection. "We bleed into each other."

Eskel reached out to touch the connection and he was suddenly filled with a deep feeling of peace and safety. That he was always welcome. That he was loved. 

Swallowing wetly Eskel was a little overwhelmed. The scents, the sounds, the colors swirling around, but mostly the way he could feel that connection pulling at himself now that he'd seen it. It was a welcome tug, but no less emotional.

"I think I need to lay down for a minute." Pulling ineffectually at Rhys, Eskel tried to get horizontal on the couch. Tried to bring Rhys with him. Everything was solely by feel because the couch was just grey blank space in his sight and blinking it away did nothing to help.

***

Rhys shuffled around and hugged Eskel to himself while leaning back until they were stretched out with Eskel on top of him. Running his hands over Eskel's back, Rhys tried to soothe him.

"It can be a bit much." Their auras mixed and bled into each other even more at the close contact, taking on a greenish golden hue. 

"That connection between us has grown a lot since we first met each other. If Duncan and Geralt were here, you could see the net between us all. If you feel like you are getting lost in all of this, it's a good thing to focus on." Rhys curled one hand in Eskel's hair, gently tugging at the strands, winding them around his fingers. He kept his breathing regular and calm, tried to make Eskel feel safe.

***

Eskel let his mind focus on Rhys' hand in his hair. He was so good at soothing Eskel when he needed it. Offering the exact kind of touches Eskel wanted— needed. After a minute or two, when he was ready Eskel reached out with his hand and rested it between them where their auras mingled again.

That deep sense of safety and welcome was still there. But he expected it this time. It didn't overwhelm him. Eskel followed the merged tendrils up until his hand bumped into Rhys. Then moved his hand up Rhys' chest. "I know how I feel. Jus' 'cause I was waitin' for the right time to say somethin' doesn't change it." 

"You said if Geralt an' Duncan were here it'd be a big net. Do they know? Do they realize how much we all love each other?" This was not how Eskel had imagined saying this to Rhys but it was _there_ , tangible, right in front of him. He was reaching out and touching it for fucks sake and it felt so good.

Eskel had the brief thought that he wanted to jump up and swing Rhys around. Dance. But then he realized that would be a horribly disorienting idea. Instead he just smiled into Rhys hand in his hair, turning his head to kiss it. Other hand still lazily exploring their connection.

***

"They know. You knew, you didn't have to see it. But I like being able to actually see it and I always take a moment when we are all together to look at it. It changes a bit, depending on the mood everyone's in. But it's always there." Rhys pulled Eskel higher so he could kiss him.

"It had really started to grow the night we spent with the elves. I kind of watched us all fall in love. Watched you fall in love with me and me falling in love right back." Rhys grinned happily, the strands between their auras taking on a bright, warm glow.

***

Falling back in memory to that night, Eskel felt warm at the thought of dancing with Rhys, having him tipped into his lap by Geralt. How much he'd felt to need to tell Rhys he was glad he'd survived. "It must be amazin' to be able to watch. An' to be able to look at whenever. To turn off an' on." Eskel snapped his fingers. "Jus' like my signs."

"But it could also be terrible." Shuddering at all the horrible things you could see, Eskel could imagine them all. People's ill intentions, knowing their lies and deceits. "Hearin' someone say they loved you an' bein' able to see it wasn't true."

Trying to shake off his sudden melancholy thoughts Eskel started asking questions again. "So you said I'd only see my food if it was alive. Do all living things of a type have the same color. You an' Duncan are both green an' both orks. Geralt an' I are both gold an' witchers. What about plants? What color is grass? Jus' green, can I see its roots, how far down they go underground?"

Pushing up out of Rhys' hold Eskel was careful to maintain at least one hand on him at all times. He could see how someone could easily freak out from not being able to _see_ even though you could see so much more this way. It was just that everything that was there normally now was not. No couch, no floor, no plate of cookies.

Thinking of which… Eskel was hungry and he could still smell those somewhere. He followed his nose. Blindly patting around where the table should be until Rhys’ aura reached out to him, handing him something. It definitely _smelled_ like a cookie. Eskel licked at it. Yup, cookie.

Rhys laughed, loud and happy. Little spots of teal blooming throughout his aura like puffballs in the grass after a rain. Biting into the cookie Eskel chewed, pleased with his acquisition. Sitting on Rhys, Eskel proceeded to devour the entire cookie. Then snatched another one from where he’d caught Rhys’ hand sneaking, his sense of smell guiding him along.

***

"If something bad happened in a place, astral sight will show you traces of it. It can be very unpleasant. And yes, you do look at peoples' aura at your own risk." Rhys shrugged, grabbed a cookie for himself.

"It's coincidence that Duncan and I have both green auras. Not all orks have that. But you and Geralt have almost the exact same tone of gold. Yours is a bit more reddish, maybe that used to be your original color. But I'm just guessing and maybe other witchers also have other colors." 

He slung both arms around Eskel again and offered another cookie. "If you want to, we can go outside? You can check the color of grass for yourself. But I can tell you already that you can't see the roots because the earth is in the way. Solid matter blocks astral senses, mostly. Even more so when it's alive and soil very definitely is alive. I can carry you to the door so you don't run into things. Navigating between non-living things like furniture is hard in astral sight."

***

“Yes, let’s do that! Wait. The ground is alive? The actual soil? Not just the bugs in it?” This was the most exciting thing Eskel had done in a while. He was certainly not sober, but he wasn’t so high that he couldn’t think. Register things. Wonder and question everything around him. Like a kid in a sweet shop. Gods was this how Geralt felt in London? Eskel barked out a laugh at the thought.

“I feel like Geralt. Poor Duncan. Take me outside. An’ don’ fuckin’ drop me on my ass. I can’t see shit in here. If you don’ wanna carry me you can jus’ walk me really slowly.” Eskel was suddenly having second thoughts about being picked up and carried around. Especially when he couldn’t see. How would he catch himself if he fell?

It didn’t matter though, Rhys was already moving around, and before he could argue much. Eskel was clinging to Rhys for dear life. He tried to relax and tamp down his shock, arms around Rhys’ neck and legs hiked up on his waist. Rhys moved calmly and with a confidence that set Eskel at ease by the time he was set down again.

Eskel blinked rapidly at the light breeze in his face when Rhys opened the door. A hand in his own and Rhys deep forest green led him down the path. “No shit!” Eskel laughed. His giggling must have been infectious because Rhys had joined in with him. Little spots of teal sprouting up on the gold of his arm, then along Rhys’ green where it stretched to hold his hand. Growing up like tiny mushrooms before bursting in the air and floating away. Disappearing in the breeze to be replaced by a new crop as Eskel laughed harder.

The ground all around him was lit up. Glowing. Red, yellow, orange, bright pink. Tiny specks all melting together in a sea of color that he was walking on. It looked like he was walking on a lake. The light sunny yellow of the grass grew up, skinny fingers of kelp growing out of the sea. 

“What is goin’ on? Why is the ground alive? Has it always been or is it jus’ here, in this world?” Looking around Eskel caught sight of a stubby tree, a ruddy orange, sure enough where he thought its roots should go it only dipped into the sea of colors swirling about. They all shimmered together _moving_ ever so slightly. A worm, or at least Eskel thought it might be one, popped up out of the sea like an eel. Electric purple like the signs in London.

***

Rhys had rarely if ever seen Eskel this delighted and he enjoyed it. He was glad to answer all the questions fired at him at a rapid pace.

"The soil looks like that in your world, too. It's alive with bugs and with tiny animals you can't see. Remind me to show you, they can be seen with enough magnification and it's fascinating. If a little unsettling because they are everywhere. You'll never look at water the same way again." Rhys giggled at Eskel staring raptly at the ground and the sea.

"Do you want to see some magic?" At Eskel's enthusiastic nod, Rhys focused on a big piece of driftwood left behind by the tides. It lifted itself out of the sand and hovered at shoulder height, a few meters away from them. 

"You can see it's my spell if you look closely. If I were further away, the connection would not be as obvious," Rhys gestured at the strand stretching between him and the wood, "but every spell leaves a signature that can be recognized. But I can clean it up afterwards and I can make my aura look different. For a shadowrunner, that was a useful skill to have - it's better not to magically sign every crime scene."

***

Snorting with laughter again Eskel focused and used Aard to knock the driftwood away from Rhys magic. Watching his own magic tangle with Rhys' and take the wood away. Soon he was giggling uncontrollably, leaning on Rhys.

"I stole... your wood." It was a struggle for Eskel to get his words out, he was snickering so hard. Hanging on to Rhys, watching the blue green bubbles of happiness pop off of them. "This is so much fun."

"What do you mean you can change you aura. It changes little bits all the time. These teal bits-" Eskel followed a bloom with his hand as it grew, exploded, and wafted away into nothingness in the air. "-and this bright coral bit here. That wasn't there earlier." Hand drifting over Rhys' midsection Eskel explored the coral red he saw there.

***

"Keep touching me and you'll see a lot more of that coral red." Rhys grinned and did nothing to stop Eskel. "Auras change and flow with how our emotions change, like expressions on a face. That's normal for everyone."

"But I mean that I can look completely different, like wearing a mask. Like this." With a deep breath, he concentrated on the form he had chosen - a non-Awakened person, with some implants. It dulled the glow of his aura and changed its color to a sunflower yellow, the cyberware silvery-black dense chunks along his spine. 

"Now, if I were to commit a crime, any mage who looked at me would see this false aura and not recognize me or my signature on any spells I cast there. It's not perfect - it can be seen through, like any disguise. But it's very useful and it has kept me out of trouble a lot." Rhys dropped the mask, returning to his normal moss green and the slight scent of a forest just after rain.

***

"Whoa!" Eskel pulled back for a moment, studying Rhys entirely new look. "Tha's crazy!"

Leaning back into Rhys, Eskel found himself pleased when Rhys' green returned. The forest scent calming him. "I think I like the real you better though. 'M glad you can mask yourself if you need to. 'S handy."

Eskel’s hand lingered on Rhys’ stomach again, playing with Rhys’ shirt there. He wanted to slip his hand under it and feel Rhys’ warm skin on his but Melitele the world around him was _alive_. So many things were watching him that he never realized were there before.

Snickering at himself Eskel slipped a finger under Rhys’ shirt anyway. Bugs. Making him shy. For fucks sake. He was never going to look at the world the same again.

Pressing his face into Rhys neck Eskel grinned. His words were quiet and happy. “You’re havin’ fun too, aren’t you?”

***

Rhys turned to embrace Eskel, the slight wind blowing Eskel's hair into his face. He didn't mind that, nosed into it and hugged Eskel hard enough to lift him off his feet for a moment.

"I am. I don't know if I've ever seen you so lighthearted and I love this. It's so nice to be able to share this. I can't with Duncan, deepweed would only get him high and nothing else and I've always regretted that. So this is special to me, having you experiencing this way I see the world." 

Dropping his voice, Rhys pushed himself even closer into Eskel. "Do you want to go back and find out what that coral red is all about?"

***

“I think I’ve got an idea, but it needs testin’.” Smirking at Rhys and pulling away Eskel spun around taking in the glowing world around him one last time.

“I’d test my theory out here but there’s too many bugs watchin’ an’ I can see them all now!” Eskel reached out for Rhys’ hand laughing. “Come show me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Notes:  
> discussion of past abuse  
> drug use


	11. Exmoor Getaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Duncan turned to Geralt, grinning happily. He loved this already, loved the chance to have Geralt all to himself at a place they didn't share with anyone. "So, you think you can live here for a couple of days with me? Not too lonely for you?"_  
>  A getaway for Geralt and Duncan.

After hours of driving first through the sprawl and then through an increasingly green landscape, Duncan was glad to hear the navigation system announce their arrival. Cresting a hill, they had their first view of the cottage Duncan had rented for Geralt and himself. 

A converted barn, it wasn't overly big but plenty of space for them. Set in the middle of what had been pastures and were now meadows, their next neighbor was a good ten minutes on foot away. It was built out of slate, a wooden deck outside and even had a small winter garden towards the back. 

With the weather a little overcast and drizzling rain, it looked extremely cozy to Duncan and he could vividly imagine curling up with Geralt on the couch and watching the rain. A small path led through the hills to the sea, a walk of fifteen minutes. A similar walk would bring them into the protected area of Exmoor National Park and they planned to do some hiking there. Maybe find some of the ponies, if they were lucky.

Parking the car next to the cottage, Duncan got out and stretched, grabbing his bag. At the cusp of his hearing was the babbling of a little brook that he knew fed into the fish pond on the ground. It was a comforting sound and Duncan liked it immediately. 

The keycode unlocked the front door and let them into a small hallway that led to kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. Dropping the bags in the bedroom and climbing the stairs, they found a living room taking up the whole upper floor. It had a good view towards the hills hiding the sea, clouds casting shadows on the ground as the wind chased them across the sky.

Duncan turned to Geralt, grinning happily. He loved this already, loved the chance to have Geralt all to himself at a place they didn't share with anyone. "So, you think you can live here for a couple of days with me? Not too lonely for you?"

***

Geralt looked at Duncan with glee. From a standstill he launched himself at Duncan, wrapping his legs around Duncan's waist and trusting Duncan not to drop him on his ass. "Its not lonely to me. As long as you're here with me. It's great."

Sure enough, fast as any panther in Toussaint Duncan grabbed onto Geralt, catching hold of him and hugging him tightly to himself with a laugh. 

"I smelled water. Pond water, fresh water and saltwater on the breeze. The ocean must not be far. We'll have to walk there when we hike to see if we can find the ponies."

Sure the cottage was smaller by the standards of Duncan's place and time. But where Geralt came from there were many places no bigger and it was homey. Besides, other than the ponies and the water Geralt didn't have much he wanted to do here in Exmoor except spend time with Duncan.

Geralt had snuck up behind Duncan while they were at the science museum and told him that he wanted Duncan to order him to fuck him. And he meant it. He wanted to, but he wanted the order to fall back on. 

Then they'd argued and it had fallen by the wayside. Geralt had high hopes that this little retreat would rekindle some of the trust he had felt in sharing his fantasies with Duncan. And the one he'd already shared would be a good start.

***

"Yeah, the sea isn't far. We can go early tomorrow, take breakfast with us and explore a bit?" Duncan hoisted Geralt up higher and pressed his face into Geralt's neck, gave a soft bite.

"But today I don't want to do more than unpack, cook dinner and cuddle with you." Without letting go of Geralt, Duncan made his way downstairs again into the kitchen.

With everything unpacked and stored, and dinner cooked and eaten, they had ended up on the couch upstairs. Each had a bottle of perry Duncan had gotten in the small town where they had done their shopping. Duncan didn't drink much as a rule but he did have a small weakness for cider and perry and this was really good indeed, refreshing and not too sweet.

They had cracked the window open and the smell of rain and grass mixed with the slight tang of salt on the breeze from the sea. Crickets sang and together with the blackbird melodiously claiming its territory, it was a soothing noise. Duncan was used to the muted roar of traffic even at night and here, everything was so quiet. 

"Sooo, you tired? Because I'm not and I have ideas about what we could do." Duncan grinned at Geralt and took a drink from his bottle. "If you're up for it."

***

Geralt had to admit the place was nice, the scents and sounds reminding him a little bit of Corvo, without all the people around to see what they were up to. Corvo lacked the salty air though. After days of the dull background thrum of London— the noise cancelling earbuds took care of most of the noise when he was outside— but even at the apartment Geralt could hear it lurking outside, he was glad for the peaceful noises of nature.

Not that it was silent here. It wasn't. There were birds and bugs, the brook, and the grass in the wind. Small noises that soothed him, and Geralt welcomed hearing them without the filters in his ears.

Heart trying to pick up a beat at Duncan’s suggestive words, Geralt forced it down. Tried to stay relaxed and effortless. He sipped his perry. It was exceptionally tasty, an explosion of flavor in his mouth, like cider but crispier, lighter, not as sugary. Geralt could taste the old fashioned pears in it and knew there was nothing fake to it. It piqued his interest and he wondered how it was made. Another thing to look up, but not while they were here.

Flashing Duncan a smile that crinkled his eyes Geralt took another drink. Tipping his head back and letting his throat show as he swallowed. No doubt that would give Duncan ideas. “I’m too excited to be tired. Is there something in particular you had in mind?” Geralt wished his eagerness didn’t show quite so much.

Geralt was more than ready to feel Duncan’s hands on himself again. To be reassured by the touch that Duncan was still interested, still found the idea of playing with Geralt exciting, still wanted him like that. Because he wanted Duncan. He just wanted it to be Duncan’s suggestion first. Needed Duncan to make that first move again. 

Skin aching for something more than a tender affectionate touch, Geralt waited. Unconsciously holding his breath and staring at Duncan. Hoping Duncan would go there, suggest they play, offer to fuck him. Something. Anything. To bring back some of what Geralt felt like he was tentatively still looking to take back after their argument.

It was silly Geralt knew, but he wasn't sure how to go back to the way things were. He still trusted Duncan, still wanted to play. He just wasn't sure how to initiate it now. A tiny bit of that fear still lingered. That Duncan might shut him down.

***

The hesitant invitation to get more active, make a move, was all Duncan needed. He puts his perry aside after emptying the bottle and carefully swung a leg over Geralt.

Settling on his lap, Duncan let him feel his weight, enough to make a fast escape impossible. He gently took Geralt's bottle and placed it on the table before gripping his ponytail with one hand and pulling his head back. It exposed Geralt's throat again and Duncan nipped at it with his tusks.

"I thought that I'd take you downstairs, watch you undress for me and then you get yourself hard so you can give me your cock." Duncan pitched his voice into a low growl that sounded much more confident than he felt about this. Geralt had asked for this, but that had been before their fight.

***

The hand in his hair pulling Geralt's head back, Duncan's tusks at his throat, and the heavy weight on top of his lap combined with the familiar growl served to draw Geralt deeper into the mood. Gripping the sides of Duncan's shirt in his hands Geralt arched up under Duncan breathlessly. Perfectly content with being trapped.

"You want that? Me giving you my cock instead of you taking it from me? I think I could do that. I _want_ to do that for you, but you'll have to order me to." Geralt shivered under Duncan at the idea. Already anticipating it.

***

Duncan breathed a quick sigh of relief at the answer. "I will, don't worry. You don't get a choice in this. Now that I have you here, I will make full use of you."

He moved back to stand up and easily pulled Geralt to his feet. Before Geralt had really found his balance, Duncan slung him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, squeezing his ass while he was at it. Giving Geralt no time to get his bearings, Duncan walked downstairs and dropped him on the bed. It didn’t bounce quite as nicely as their own, but still better than the ones on the Continent.

The door shut behind them hard from a kick Duncan had given it, with a loud bang. Geralt had flung arms and legs out to stop himself from rolling off of the bed and Duncan grabbed his wrists, pulled him up again, close enough for a rough kiss. It left Geralt breathless when Duncan broke it off and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

“Why are you still dressed?” Duncan frowned at Geralt.

***

Scrambling off the bed Geralt grinned at Duncan, chest heaving from the ruthless kiss still. He wasn’t out of breath anymore, but he was _excited_. “You said you wanted to watch me undress, you can’t do that if I’m already naked.” Geralt’s head buzzed and he teased at the top of his shirt’s zipper.

Geralt was never sassy to Duncan and that alone was a bit terrifying. Tempering the terror with his tease, Geralt slid the zipper halfway down and ventured his hand inside to pinch at his own nipple. Teeth digging into his lower lip as he pulled on it and thought of the clamps Duncan had given him. They were in his bag and he wanted them now.

Pulling his hand out, Geralt finished unzipping his shirt. Carrying it in his hand he strode over to the dresser and laid it on top. Bent down to fish in his bag and retrieved the clover clamps, squeezing them tightly in his hand, sure his ass looked nice in the leather pants.

Straightening up Geralt ran his empty hand over the noticeable bulge in the front of his pants, staring right at Duncan. He let his fingers linger over himself and play before tossing the clamps next to Duncan on the bed. Ever quick though, Duncan’s hand darted out to catch them instead. He grinned widely, and Geralt couldn’t tear his eyes away from Duncan’s tusks.

Done with all the teasing he could manage, Geralt thumbed open the button on his pants and made quick work of the zipper. Shimmying the tight leather down his legs Geralt let his boxers come down with them. Added them to his pile on the dresser.

Crawling slowly across the bed back to Duncan, he swung a leg over his lap, pressed his cock right up against Duncan. Placing his hands behind his head to play with his ponytail Geralt looked Duncan in the eyes, feeling hungry already. He wanted Duncan’s cock, but he also wanted to give Duncan’s his, a mix of anxiety and arousal swirling in his stomach.

With a quick glance down at the clamps in Duncan’s hand and then back up to Duncan’s face Geralt whimpered. “Would you? Please?”

***

Duncan swallowed at Geralt displaying himself like that and reached up to cup his face for a quick caress before trailing his hand down to give a tug on his nipples. Touching the cold metal of the clamps to them, Duncan traced circles around them before letting the clamps snap shut.

With his arms wrapped around Geralt, Duncan leaned forward to lick and suck on Geralt's nipples, ending with a hard tug on each clamp. He quickly pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it in the direction of the dresser. Hugging Geralt again, Duncan enjoyed having his skin against Geralt's, the clamps warming up with their heat. Under his hands, the lines of Geralt's tattoo were still clearly raised and he let his fingers wander from between Geralt's shoulders down his spine to his ass.

He gave another bite to Geralt's throat, holding him for a few heartbeats. Geralt's pulse jumped under his tongue as he licked at the skin, tasting salt.

Squirming out from under Geralt, Duncan got rid of the rest of his clothes and used the chain between the clamps as a leash to get Geralt where he wanted him: kneeling between Duncan's spread legs.

"Touch yourself. Let me see what's mine." He pressed his palm against Geralt's cock, cupped his balls before letting go again. "I want you harder than this."

***

Moaning at Duncan using the clamps to position him, Geralt moved easily, going where Duncan directed him. As soon as Duncan had put them on an image of Duncan tugging the chain to lead Geralt around had formed in his mind and Geralt was not disappointed at all that Duncan’s mind had clearly gone the same place.

With the distraction of the metal against his skin Geralt felt less apprehensive, less glaringly aware of being a bit in control. Duncan’s hand on his cock, fondling his balls, pulled at his attention, splitting it between his chest and his running thoughts. Duncan wanted something from him, and Geralt wanted to give it to him.

Geralt let his eyes wander up Duncan’s body, laid out in front of him. There was no shyness when he reached down to touch himself. Drinking in the sight of Duncan’s legs, thick and strong, the same ones that carried him around the little cottage as if he weighed no more than a leaf, Geralt groaned and stroked a hand over his cock.

One hand trailed up and Geralt hooked a finger in the chain between his nipples, just resting it there, not pulling yet. He watched Duncan’s breathing, his chest rising and falling, the twitching of Duncan’s cock. It mirrored Geralt’s own.

Falling further into his thoughts Geralt blinked slowly, imagined the way Duncan had to hold himself still when he straddled above Geralt and took his cock. How it must feel. Geralt was intimately aware of the sweet stretch it provided, and his breath hitched at the thought. He tugged at the chain a little, and whimpered when it pulled the clamps tighter. 

Cock throbbing in his hand Geralt shuddered. His cock was Duncan’s and he knew it. He _liked_ it that way. It would still be Duncan’s even if he was fucking Duncan, thrusting his hips between Duncan's legs. He would only be doing what Duncan told him to. A drop of precum leaked out from the head of his cock and Geralt caught it, slicking down his hard length.

***

"Don't stop." Duncan let his hands wander up Geralt's flanks up to his chest, flicking at the clamps. He rubbed his thumbs over Geralt's nipples, flicked at the clamps again and then opened both at the same time.

Leaning forward, Duncan sucked on Geralt's nipples, hot against his tongue. He savored the quiet moans and flinches it drew from Geralt before attaching the clamps again. With one hand curled into Geralt's hair, Duncan pulled him close into a kiss, giving a tender bite to his lip. His other hand reached down to take both Geralt's and his own cock, stroking them together with Geralt.

Geralt's cock was hard against Duncan's, the skin soft under his hand. Duncan rubbed his thumb over the heads, slowly thrust up into his hand and moaned into their kiss. Breaking it off, he reached over to the nightstand for the lube, slicking them both up.

He looked up at Geralt who watched him, pupils wide and round, the golden iris only a corona around them. With a grin, Duncan gave a hard tug on the chain, pulling the clamps tight. It made Geralt jump and Duncan did it again. Pulling hard, rubbing a finger over Geralt's nipples to soothe the pain, pulling. All while he kept stroking them.

With a final hard tug on the chain, he plucked the clamps off of Geralt's nipples and took his hand off their cocks. He hugged Geralt to himself and held him while he shivered and whimpered through the pain.

"I want you to fuck me. You'll get the clamps back once I've got your cock in my ass." Duncan gave a hard bite to Geralt's shoulder and dragged him down until Duncan was on his back with Geralt crouched over him.

***

 _Fuck_. Geralt sucked in a hard breath, breaking out in a fine sweat when Duncan’s final tug pulled the clamps off his nipples pinching them hard. Duncan held him through it, and despite the pain, or more likely because of it Geralt’s cock throbbed where it was snuggled up against Duncan’s.

The bite on his shoulder made Geralt realize that the pain in his chest was fading away and he wanted it back. It wasn’t that he enjoyed his nipples being tortured over any other place, it was that those Gods be Damned clamps gave him the perfect mix of pain that built quickly to almost too much but never quite enough. And now Duncan had them and he didn’t.

All Geralt needed to do to get them back was follow Duncan’s orders, put his cock in Duncan’s ass. An icy trickle of fear ran through Geralt. He didn’t want to hurt Duncan. Breathing deep and rapid Geralt tried to focus, tried to remember if Duncan had stretched himself before when he’d taken Geralt’s cock. It was useless though, Geralt’s memory of those times was blurry. Only flashes of arousal and how hot Duncan’s ass had felt around him, how scared he’d been.

Heart running away in his chest, Geralt stroked himself. Blindly guided his cock around Duncan’s ass until the head pressed up against his hole. It clenched under the head of Geralt’s cock as he rubbed it all around Duncan’s entrance, trying to slick him up.

Geralt was breathing so hard he felt dizzy. “Do you-” Searching for the right words, Geralt’s mind felt fuzzy. “Should I use my fingers first? I don’t want to hurt you.”

***

Duncan lifted a hand to caress Geralt's chest and neck, cupped his face in his palm. "You won't hurt me. But yes, use your fingers, I'd love that. Tease me a little."

He kept his hand on Geralt's arm to steady him. There had been a note of rising panic in Geralt's voice that he didn't want to take root. Between his legs, Geralt shifted to find a better position and to grab the lube again.

When Geralt's finger probed at Duncan's entrance, he rolled his hips to take it and it slid in easily. Duncan moaned softly, turning his head into the pillow. One hand clutching the clamps, he let the other trail over Geralt's arm.

"More. Open me up for you." Duncan rolled his hips against Geralt's hand.

***

Duncan looked beautiful. There was no other way Geralt could think to describe it. Splotchy blush creeping down that magnificent chest as it rose and fell with each breath. Geralt was relieved that Duncan had asked for his fingers. _Wanted_ them. 

Gods, his body wanted them too. Eagerly taking Geralt's second finger when it joined the first. Duncan's hips rolled into it, swallowing his fingers, and Geralt had a sudden vivid image of Duncan's ass around his cock. Swallowing it just the same.

Slipping his fingers in and out, Geralt fucked them back into Duncan, listening in quiet fascination to the almost silent moans that came with each breath Duncan took. The hand on Geralt’s arm was light, comforting, drawing him in— closer to Duncan with each stroke of his fingers inside him.

Hooking his fingers forward when they were pressed deep inside Duncan made him rock under Geralt and suddenly Geralt couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to give Duncan what he wanted. Needed to please him.

One hand planted on the bed next to Duncan’s shoulder, Geralt withdrew his fingers and took hold of his cock again. Rubbing it over Duncan’s hole it caught on the relaxed rim and Geralt’s head fell down on Duncan’s chest.

The thud thud thud of Duncan’s heart strong and fast in his chest beat a drum in Geralt’s ears as he pushed his hips forward. Resettling his knees, and leaning into Duncan, Geralt let out a startled gasp against Duncan’s chest when he was finally surrounded by the slick heat of Duncan’s ass.

It was only the head of his cock and Geralt pulled back reflexively but Duncan’s hand gripped his ass hard stopping him. Slowly urging him forward again, and Geralt let it. Let Duncan’s body swallow him up a little bit more this time. Gritting his teeth and panting against the pleasure of it all.

***

When Geralt was inside of him, their hips pressing together, Duncan wrapped his arms around him, keeping him still for a moment. 

"You're being so good for me." One hand gently tugging on Geralt's ponytail, Duncan let the other trail up Geralt's back and down again, squeezing his ass. With the ponytail wrapped around his hand, Duncan made Geralt raise his upper body again until he was propped up on both hands.

He let go and used his hands to pinch at Geralt's nipples, just hard enough to make Geralt suck down a startled breath. At the same time, Duncan arched his back, made Geralt's cock slip out a short way and took him inside. Holding Geralt's gaze, he let the clamps snap shut. Waited a second, took them off and let them bite into Geralt's nipples again.

With one finger hooked into the chain, Duncan dragged Geralt forward into a fierce kiss. "I want you, and don't hold back."

***

A desperate cry slipped out of Geralt. Breathless and pulled forward by the fire across his chest Geralt thrust into Duncan, moaning his stunned arousal directly into Duncan’s mouth. When Duncan finally relinquished his mouth Geralt sucked in a deep breath and pulled his hips back, letting them drive forward with the tug of the chain. Hands resting on Duncan’s muscular thighs, Geralt squeezed into them. He tried to match the rhythm of Duncan rolling his hips, but it was hard.

Running his hand up and down Duncan’s thighs Geralt let one hand skitter up over Duncan’s cock and it made Duncan jerk, ass clamping tight around him and Geralt choked on his own breath at the zing of arousal is sent up his spine. He ended up with that hand pressed hard into Duncan’s chest and the other grabbing at Duncan’s knee. 

Geralt hoisted Duncan’s leg in the air, gripping his ankle out to the side. A sharp pull on the chain of his clamps urged him on and Geralt took hold of Duncan’s other leg in the same manner. Holding them up and open he rolled his hips forward, thrusting into Duncan with a new strength. Some of Geralt’s real ability leaked through, and Duncan moaned, loud and drawn out.

Pausing Geralt stared down at Duncan. Blown wide eyes stared back and Duncan gave the chain another tug. “Don’t stop now. This is exactly what I want.”

Laying his head against Duncan’s calf Geralt closed his eyes, let the pull and tug of the chain guide him. Fuck, it did feel good. The heat and tightness of Duncan’s ass around his cock, the searing pain in his chest. Aching and burning. He would never fuck a woman like this, but Duncan… Duncan _wanted_ it, asked for it. Demanded it. All Geralt could do was listen and follow orders.

Snapping his hips forward again Geralt let his body take over. Let Duncan’s breath and heartbeat guide him. Opened his mouth to lick over the salty skin of Duncan’s calf. Again and again, Geralt snapped his hips forward, driving his cock into Duncan. Filling him up, making him moan and shake ever so slightly.

A tension was building in Geralt. One that had pushed the fear aside and replaced it with curling heat in his gut. A fine sweat on his body. A throb in his nipples. And Geralt felt like he might fall off the edge at any moment. “Duncan…”

***

Arching his back into Geralt's thrusts, Duncan stroked himself hard and fast. They had a perfect balance of control between them. Duncan dictating the pace by giving Geralt pain and yet himself almost helpless in Geralt's hold. It was thrilling to see Geralt letting himself go like this, getting to feel his strength.

Geralt's cock driving into him over and over again sent waves of pleasure crashing over Duncan, leaving him gasping for air. And Geralt looked gorgeous like this - ponytail coming undone, sweat gleaming on his flushed skin, its usual paleness lost to arousal. He opened his eyes wide when Duncan gave the chain a rough jerk, pupils dark pools with a slim golden edge.

"Come for me." Duncan wound the chain tighter around his hand so every move Geralt made pulled cruelly on his nipples. Pleasuring himself with his other hand, Duncan fell right over the edge into the churning waves and didn't even try to stay afloat. They swallowed him up, the current sweeping him away.

***

Geralt was lost. Duncan's body squeezing his cock hard, stripping it from tip to base with every thrust. Mouth falling open Geralt watched enthralled as Duncan stroked himself.

It took only the barest of touches before he spurted all over himself. Ass clamping down on Geralt and drawing a surprised grunt from him as he thrust back in.

The way Duncan's fingers wound in the chain pulled the clamps harshly shut on Geralt's nipples and he cried out. Leaning forward Geralt put all of his weight into his thrusts, seeking pleasure to mix with it. Sped up, and chased pleasure just out of his reach.

With one last twist Duncan popped the clamps free, hand falling exhausted by his head holding them. At the sudden stinging fire in his nipples Geralt ground out a hoarse scream, hips slamming forward into Duncan and spilling himself hotly there. "Fu- oh fuck Duncan." Pain tipping him over the edge without warning.

Pressing his face into Duncan's calf again Geralt could feel Duncan's body pulsing gently around him as he grew soft inside. He let his head rest there for a moment while he caught his breath. Unsure what to say or do as he came down, Geralt was sure of at least one thing.

"I would do that again." Smiling without opening his eyes Geralt continued to rest for a moment before setting Duncan's legs down. He'd already slipped out and he let himself fall forward onto Duncan. He didn't care about the mess. Geralt needed to be held.

***

Duncan was too out of breath to say anything, but he wrapped his arms around Geralt. Pulled him up until Geralt could nuzzle into his neck with Duncan softly caressing his back and winding strands of his hair around his fingers.

Drifting for a while, the slight ache in Duncan's legs from being manhandled settled and he gave a pleased hum. This had been _fun_ , and it had alleviated his worries about having lost Geralt's trust. They still found their way into a scene easily, without hesitation after that one moment at the start.

"I want you to do that again. I like it when you let yourself go." Duncan laughed softly and tipped Geralt off of him to the side. "Wait here, I'll be right back."

He didn't feel like taking a shower, so he just grabbed a bowl of warm water and a washcloth and clean himself and Geralt up before crawling into bed again. Geralt didn't do more than mumble sleepily before rolling into his arms and growing still again, pliant and warm against Duncan's chest. With the scent of the sea tiptoeing in through the open window Duncan fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Notes:  
> lots of smut


	12. Pretty Ponies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Chatting with Duncan about ideas for future play was rolling easily off his tongue, which made a warmth curl in his belly that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with things being back to normal. Content, Geralt devoured another piece of toast and set to work finishing off his eggs._  
>  A day of domestic fluff, feral ponies, and magic in the bedroom.
> 
> Content info in the AN

The morning sun woke Duncan, and the blackbird sitting in a tree right outside their window. Its song was sweet and melodious and Duncan lay for a bit and listened. In his arms, Geralt was still sleeping, twitching a little in a dream.

Hunger finally drove Duncan out of bed. A quick shower later, he busied himself setting the table outside, it was more than warm enough to have breakfast there. From the deck, they had a good view of the meadow behind the house, spring flowers dotting bright colors all over it. He heard Geralt moving around in the bathroom, probably drawn by the scent of tea and toasted bread.

Geralt padded into the kitchen, barefoot and looking all soft and sleepy. But he had obviously showered, his hair still a bit damp and his skin flushed from the hot water. Duncan drew him into a kiss.

"Good morning. Do you want some scrambled eggs? Or I can make pancakes, sweet ones?" With his hand under Geralt's shirt, Duncan ran his palm over Geralt's back, over the scars and soft skin between them.

***

"Mmm. Eggs please." Geralt didn't pull away from Duncan though. Enjoying the slightly cooler touch of Duncan's hand on his back. The shower had kept him warm and sleepy, and he was just now waking up.

It was something Geralt prized about Duncan. Like Eskel, he could allow himself to stay sleep bedraggled and wake up slowly. They would watch out for him while he did, and he let them.

Raising up on his toes Geralt slipped his own hot hands under the sides of Duncan's shirt. One settling on the scar on Duncan's abdomen. Geralt knew it was _there_ , but in comparison to his own body Duncan's was flawless. 

He mouthed at Duncan's jaw. Then dropped back flat on his feet and laid his head on Duncan's chest."I'll let you cook now. Are we eating outside?"

Geralt was still slow to give up the contact but he managed. Something about last night left him both wanting to be held and also wanting to hold onto Duncan. He'd never seen Duncan look so helplessly taken by sex, so incredibly turned on.

***

Duncan stole one last kiss before turning to the stove again. "Yeah, we're eating outside. Keep me company? The eggs won't take long."

With Geralt watching him from his perch on one of the kitchen chairs, Duncan picked up a couple of eggs and cracked them over the pan with one hand. A trick he had learned from Raymond and that Rhys had been trying to learn but never mastered, to Duncan's secret delight.

Stirring the eggs into submission, Duncan nodded to the tray loaded with jam, maple syrup, the tea pot and mugs and a pile of toast. "If you want to, you can take it outside. I'll be out in a minute."

When Duncan carried the plates outside, Geralt was soaking up the sun, head back and eyes closed. Duncan placed a kiss on his neck and one of the plates in front of him before sitting down himself, kitty corner from Geralt.

"I enjoyed last night a lot. Seeing you like this was amazing." Duncan took a sip of his tea and reached out to touch Geralt's leg under the table. "I was a bit worried for a second that it wouldn't work out, but only for a second."

***

The sunlight streaming down on his face was pleasant. It was stretching out that warm fuzzy feeling Geralt had managed to hold onto since he’d woken up. Geralt ventured his hand up to curl around Duncan’s head for a moment when he kissed him. Opening his eyes, he watched Duncan take a seat, smiling easily at the familiar heat of Duncan’s hand on his leg.

There was something really comfortable about this. Sitting with Duncan. Alone. Only the two of them. Talking. “I thoroughly approved of it.” Putting one hand over Duncan’s on his leg, Geralt loaded his fork with eggs and gave a genuine smile before devouring them.

When he was done with the bite he continued. “I was panicking for a moment, but you helped me. I wasn’t sure what I could do without hurting you is all.” Buttering a piece of toast Geralt added jam and bit into it. He watched Duncan thoughtfully as Duncan drank his tea.

“There was so, so much I loved about it though. I would do it again if you told me to.” Forcing himself to slow down, lean back in his chair and drink some of his own tea, Geralt listened to the birds in the grass. “I _love_ it when you tell me to do things like that.”

***

"Oh, don't worry, I will tell you to do that again." Duncan grinned and speared some egg with his fork to shovel it on a piece of toast.

"I gathered you like the clamps a lot. Are you up for other pain while we do this? Because the clamps seemed to motivate you pretty well and I have ideas. Involving making it painful for you to move, and to get fucked or fuck me. Fair warning, your balls might hate you if you say yes now." Raising an eyebrow at Geralt, Duncan took another bite of his toast.

***

Sitting forward again Geralt stuffed his mouth with eggs, taking a moment to decide how to best explain. "I do. It’s a kind of pain I like, there is always this edge to it. That you could pull a little too hard and they’d come off.” The memory of that sensation made Geralt shiver. “Which is the worst _and_ the best.”

Without thinking Geralt’s hand left Duncan’s and he rubbed over his nipple, still tender from last night but not exactly sore. The soft cotton of his cerulean shirt soothed it in a way. “And I do find it motivating. I’d like to try your ideas that make it hurt when I move, I think. Especially if you mix that with ordering me to do that again.”

It was strange. For as long as Geralt could remember he had hated the idea of fucking a man. But with Duncan it was fast becoming the idea he loved to hate. It was twisting up in his mind. Maybe not in a bad way. He was confident today, if extremely clingy. 

Chatting with Duncan about ideas for future play the words were rolling easily off his tongue, which made a warmth curl in his belly that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with things being back to normal. Content, Geralt devoured another piece of toast and set to work finishing off his eggs.

***

Duncan let a slow, dangerous smile build on his face and waited until Geralt looked up to see it. The short quiver that ran over Geralt did not escape him and it made his heart skip a beat.

"You might regret saying this. I'm pretty sure you will, actually." He dropped his voice into a growl. "But it's too late now."

Another shiver and Duncan laughed out loud, overjoyed at having their easy going relationship back. Taking Geralt's hand, he placed a kiss to the palm and let go. He thought about the spell Rhys had prepared for him and if he should bring up trying it out. But thinking about it reminded him of something else and he pushed himself to his feet.

"I'll be right back, I forgot my meds." He quickly grabbed them from his bag and returned to the breakfast table, shook them into his hand and swallowed them down with a sip of cooled off tea.

"Do you want to go and see if we can find some horses today?" The day would be ideal for hiking, sunny but not too warm.

***

“Mmmm, yes. Let’s. I won’t even tell Roach.” After spending so much time cooped up in the car yesterday, Geralt looked forward to getting out and walking.

Half the words had floated right past Geralt, though. Admittedly he was a little turned on by Duncan playing with his head a bit, but Duncan sounded completely unconcerned about wherever he was going. So Geralt turned his head back up to the sun and enjoyed it. Duncan would be right back.

Geralt looked down again when Duncan returned to his seat. Eyes narrowing on the tablets in Duncan’s hand just as he threw them back and swallowed, Geralt replayed Duncan’s words in his mind. _I forgot my meds._ He’d never seen or heard Duncan talk about taking medicine before and his reaction was instantaneous.

Geralt frowned at Duncan’s offending hand. “You don't smell sick.”

***

Duncan laughed out loud. “That is such a witcher thing to say. Don’t worry, I’m not sick. This is just-” He realised that he didn’t know exactly how to explain.

“I worry a lot about stuff? To a point where I can’t stop thinking about it and it’s just not healthy. And I can’t switch it off. Other people, when there’s a problem, they think about it and maybe worry a bit off and on, but it doesn’t consume them. I can’t stop, no matter how small the problem is. It’s exhausting and it makes me angry and tense all the time.” Duncan thought for a bit for a better way to make Geralt understand what it was like.

“Okay, imagine that you’re just taking a walk. But your head tells you that something is not right. That there’s danger somewhere and you need to be prepared. You _know_ there’s nothing, but knowing that doesn’t help at all. That’s what it’s like for me, all the time. The meds help with that. When I take them, I can shut off that feeling. I can be rational about problems instead of freaking out about them or flying into a rage. At least most of the time, sometimes it still happens but it’s way less of a problem than it used to be.” Cradling his teacup in his hands, Duncan watched Geralt across it.

***

Picking up his chair underneath himself, Geralt scooted it closer to Duncan's. With his hand behind Duncan's neck, Gerald's fingers toyed in the short hairs of his mohawk. "You worry." It wasn't a question, thinking back Geralt could pick out times that Duncan worried, almost needlessly.

"I-" Geralt stopped and started again. "So something as simple to someone else, as talking to your husband about a _thing_ , sends you flying." 

Exactly how their fight had spun out of control so rapidly snapped into glaring clarity for Geralt. "And because _I_ tend to freak out as well, your sudden fear set off a whole mess of shitty feelings about myself."

"I ran. You worried more. I misread your fear as rejection. And your fear told you I was rejecting you too. Fuck. We are a perfect mess together." Geralt laughed and leaned out of his chair and into Duncan.

"I had no idea. Honestly. By all appearances you are healthy and strong. You don't seem off or slowed down by it." Shrugging one shoulder Geralt remained leaned up against Duncan while he reached for his tea. "I know you can get violent, but then so can I."

***

"I've learned to live with it, to cope even before the meds. And it's not like this is like a disease, something that would be visible. It's just that the floodgates are always open in my head, every time something happens. But these days, it's rare for me to freak out like I did the other day. It was a perfect storm, between the two of us." Duncan ran his hand over Geralt's leg and let it rest there. 

"I used to be all rage and violence and not much else - angry at the world and taking it out on whoever came across my path. It got me respect, when I was a kid living on the street. The anxiety didn't help it but the high from a fight at least made it go away for a bit. Raymond was the one who got me help for this, both for the anger and the anxiety. I had no idea that it was possible to _not_ lie awake at night, worrying about shit. I thought everyone did that."

With a quiet laugh, Duncan placed a kiss on Geralt's neck, just below his ear. "We're a mess together but I like it. And now that we both know about this, we can handle it better next time."

***

“Mmhmm. For sure. It just surprises me that I never knew this about you.” Geralt wanted to laugh with Duncan. It wasn’t like Duncan hadn’t known right from the start that he had some issues.

“Let’s go hiking, see if we can find some horses. I want to feel the breeze in my hair. I’ll even carry the backpack this time.” Grinning so wide his teeth showed, Geralt finished off his tea and pushed away from the table offering Duncan his hand.

The park reminded Geralt of the coastal areas just south of Novigrad. Grasses growing tall in the rolling hills cut through with footpaths. Once they were in the park proper Duncan suggested that Geralt lead the way, and his keen senses had served him just as well as on the Continent.

Following the breeze and his instincts, Geralt happily trekked along until he could pick out the swishes of horsetails swatting at flies among the buzz of insects and calls of birds. Duncan leveled an eyebrow at him but followed without question in the direction Geralt insisted. They walked along the flatland for some distance before Duncan grinned, shaking his head. At the edge where it dropped off into a valley they paused, looking down on the wild ponies grazing lazily in the shade of a passing cloud.

Geralt plopped down on the ground cross legged, tugging at Duncan’s hand for him to join. There were nearly a dozen at a glance and Geralt was comforted by their easy presence in the land. He noted a few were dark brown or smokey brown, but most were bays like Roach. He missed her and had to remind himself that as long as he spent here she wouldn’t even know he was gone, not even a blink of time would pass for her.

With a smirk he also reminded himself that she wouldn’t know he’d gone to visit the wild ponies either.

***

Duncan sat next to Geralt, leaning into him. The sun had long dried off any dew and the ground was warm under them, smelling of sweet grass. The clouds painted ever changing patterns on the green hills and for a while, Duncan was content watching them and the ponies.

"I think most people never see that many of them, if at all. They're shy." One of the ponies was watching them but they hadn't gone too close and the horses didn't seem to mind, even wandered closer while grazing.

"They're stroppy little buggers and they'll bite you." Duncan delivered what he knew was a very decent imitation of Rhys' tone and lilt before dropping back down into his own voice. "Better watch from a distance." 

He offered Geralt a drink of water from the bottle they had brought along. The wind carried the smell of salt even stronger here and Duncan took a deep breath. A bumblebee came close, visiting the little flowers growing in the grass, its buzzing loud in the silence.

***

Geralt laughed out loud at Duncan’s impersonation, a rolling happy sound. A few of the ponies swiveled their ears to him at the sound and one even lifted its head to watch them, clearly debating if they were more than a nuisance. Being downwind though Geralt wasn’t too worried about spooking them.

“We don’t need to be any closer. I love this. The grass, the smell of the sea, being here with you.” After guzzling a third of the bottle Geralt handed it back to Duncan. Laying his head sideways onto Duncan’s shoulder Geralt pointed to one of the duns. “See that one there who’s watching me— she’s smart— the rest of them heard me laughing but couldn’t smell me so they didn’t worry. She’s got her eye on me though.”

The silence stretched on comfortably around them for some time. The bumblebee weaved about in the grass, pollen drunk, her flight plan known to none but her. Eventually, Geralt decided to speak up, make sure Duncan understood that this was what he had really wanted. “You know, I’m really glad you brought me here. And I don’t mean just this morning to watch the ponies, I mean the whole place. It’s all I really wanted when I brought up what I did before— something we could share that was only between us. This is as good or better than that would have been anyway.”

“I’d love to come here again, another time. I don’t want it to only be this once.” London was fascinating, full of people and new things around every corner, here it was tranquil but most importantly Geralt had Duncan all to himself. He could be needy and clingy without feeling like he was leaving anyone out or taking too much of Duncan’s time. Go to sleep in Duncan’s arms and wake back up in them, and it was something he wanted to have once in a while.

***

"That's fine with me - I like this place and I like having you all to myself." Duncan wrapped an arm around Geralt and tipped over on his back, dragging Geralt with him. They came to lie with Geralt's head resting on Duncan's chest and Duncan gave a content sigh.

"I've got to ask: you don't believe I hid the anxiety thing from you on purpose, do you? It's just not something I talk about a lot. It's _there_ , it's normal for me and I deal with it, so I didn't feel like there was much reason to mention it. Maybe I should have. But I just didn't think about it. It wasn't that I decided you didn't need to know or something." Burying one hand under Geralt's shirt, Duncan pulled him even closer.

***

“No.” Geralt tipped his head to peer up at Duncan with a questioning look before rubbing his cheek against Duncan’s chest and getting comfortable again. “I’ve never got the feeling you hide anything from me. In fact I feel like you tell me more than you tell most people. Aside from Rhys and Eskel. We’re all pretty open with each other.”

“You couldn’t have known that it would be such a big deal when mixed with my own things. That’s not your fault, we just need to be aware of our messes together, like you said.” Geralt’s lips curled up a bit at the thought that he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t perfect.

“And I love having you all to myself too. I love a lot of things about you.” Closing his eyes Geralt listening to the soft sound of the breeze in the grass, the ponies milling about down in the valley, and Duncan’s heart loud and strong in his ear.

***

They had wandered back to the cottage at a leisurely pace, the breeze from the sea making an otherwise hot day enjoyable. Much of the rest of the day had been spent outside on the deck, finishing Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and making a start on Dracula and exploring the grounds a little. There was a heron at the pond that eyed them with suspicion, and a red squirrel that came to visit them to look cute and get thrown some of the walnuts that made part of their lunch.

After lunch, a light rain had brought them inside and to the couch. Duncan sat with Geralt sprawled out over his lap, petting Geralt's back.

"So- I have something I want to try with you. If you want. Rhys has given me a spell that makes everything pleasurable, and I mean everything. Like the slightest touch. He has used it on me and it's intense to the point of being too much, but in the best way. If I use it on you, I can force you to come over and over again, or just keep you on the edge with a few gentle touches. I think we could have fun with that." 

"I've never used it on someone before though. I've tried this with an illusion spell, to see how it works and I had no problems controlling that. Never thought I'd do magic, even like this." Duncan laughed, still pleased with the experience. It had been weird, the spell flowing through him and obeying his thoughts. He had created a small triceratops in their living room, inspired by a program they had watched the night before. It had been astonishingly detailed and Rhys had been impressed, laughing with delight at the dog sized dinosaur ambling through the room.

***

The idea of Duncan being so in control of his pleasure like that sent a ripple of anticipation up Geralt’s spine. “I like that idea.” 

“I’m not sure I understand how it works though. You control the spell, Rhys gave you? Can you make it more or less intense? Stop it if you need to? Or does it just last a certain amount of time?” Geralt wasn’t sure why he was kidding himself with these questions. He would do it anyway. 

It sounded like exactly the kind of thing he would find himself floating in, especially with Duncan in control of it. Duncan had fast mastered just the right amount of too much and pain to get Geralt there.

Duncan’s hand on his back was gentle and comforting. A pleasant tiredness had carried him into Duncan’s lap but this idea was carrying it away quickly. Waking up his nerves and making his hair rise up in prickles at the thought of how good it might be.

***

"Mhm, it's --like Rhys lends me control over it? I can end it when I want but then it's over, no chance to cast it again. It's not like this makes me magic. Nothing can do that. And it has a point where it will lose effect anyway, it lasts for a couple of hours at most. But I don't think we'll go that hard with it anyway. It's _exhausting_ , I can tell you." Duncan grinned at Geralt's obvious enthusiasm, traced a finger down his spine, scritched the back of Geralt's neck with his other hand. 

"I can control how intense it is. I can't make it more powerful than Rhys created it but I can make it less. Might be a little distracted at first, while I get it balanced in my mind." With a little laugh, Duncan shrugged. "I'm not sure I understand it myself. Not how it really works. But I'm glad it does."

***

Geralt rolled the thought around in his mind to taste it some more, get a feel for it, for what he was getting himself into. But in the end it was useless, he was already interested in the idea, and there was little he could see dissuading him from it.

"Ye-" Geralt had to clear his throat, "-Yes." Breathing deeply while neglecting to swallow as he pondered this had left him sounding rough. 

Just the thought of giving himself over to Duncan to this degree made Geralt feel achy all over. Arching his upper back up a tiny bit Geralt pushed into Duncan's hand like a cat, seeking more pressure, reassurance. "Whenever you want. You can have that much of me, if you ask."

Swallowing hard Geralt closed his eyes, breathed steadily through his nose. His whole focus centered on Duncan's hands. One on his back and the other scratching lightly up the base of his skull in the short hair there. He felt keenly vulnerable admitting that he was so eager to let Duncan have this much of him.

***

Duncan wrapped his arms around Geralt and pulled him up to sit in his lap. "I would love to have this from you. Right now."

It got a silent nod from Geralt, with his face pressed into Duncan's neck, and that was all Duncan needed. "Right. Hold on to me."

Carrying Geralt, Duncan made his way downstairs to the bedroom and sat Geralt on the bed before taking the spell out of the nightstand's drawer. Rhys had cast it into a leather armband, strips woven together into a complex pattern.

After grabbing lube and the chime ball and putting both on top of the nightstand Duncan sat behind Geralt, hugging him to his chest. He showed him the spell armband on his palm.

"I can cast the spell as soon as I put this on. I'll give you the chime ball to hold in case you lose your words. But I want you to choose a word that will make me slow down but not stop. I know you might not be able to use it, but it's nice to have the option." He worried at Geralt's neck with his tusks for a moment while thinking what else there was.

"Once we've started, I won't stop for anything but those two words or the chime ball. You can squirm and struggle and beg all you want. I won't care. That sound good to you?" It sounded great to Duncan and he was more than eager to start.

***

The struggle to control his heart rate and breathing with Duncan's tusks on his neck was so much Geralt could barely answer. "That sounds great." 

Already Geralt was foggy and molding into Duncan's hold. "I need the ball, to hold and drop, I don't think I can remember my words." Even trying to think of a word to give Duncan now besides Novigrad was unreasonably hard.

"I'll try to. It's nice to have them there. Even if I can't remember them. Toussaint? To slow you down, I mean." Geralt swallowed thickly, tilting his head to bare more of his neck to Duncan.

***

"Toussaint then. Or you shake the chime in your hand without letting go." Duncan put a final soft bite to Geralt's neck and then pushed him forward. "Stand up."

Turning Geralt around to face him, Duncan sat on the edge of the bed and put the spell aside for a moment. He slipped both hands under Geralt's shirt and stood up, right into Geralt's personal space. Pulled the shirt up, over Geralt's head, and held it there, still wrapped around Geralt's arms, shackling him.

"I want you already naked for this." Duncan let his hand wander up Geralt's chest and tipped his head back into a kiss. One thigh pressing between Geralt's legs, Duncan took his time with the kiss, ending it with a tender bite to Geralt's lip.

He relented his grip on the shirt and pulled it off of Geralt's arms. Quickly folding it, he placed the shirt on the bed behind himself. For a time, Duncan explored Geralt's scars, following them along with his fingertips and placing kisses on them. Placed kisses on the skin between them. He ended with a kiss to the bite mark he had left on Geralt years ago.

Reaching down, he quickly opened Geralt's pants and pulled them down together with his boxers. Geralt stepped out of them when Duncan gave him a slight nudge, let Duncan pull off his socks. Duncan gathered it all up and placed it on a chair, piled his own clothes on top of it. 

Coming up behind Geralt, Duncan wrapped both arms around him. One hand cupping his balls, the other splayed on his chest. "Let's see if this works."

Duncan grabbed the armband and squeezed his hand through it. It fit easily and sat around his wrists doing nothing much for a heartbeat. Then the magic activated with a sudden flash of heat that made Duncan gasp. It flowed up his arm and into his chest, coiling there, waiting for him to command it.

Concentrating, Duncan let some of the heat flow into Geralt. Not all of it, just a little. His fingertips prickled where they pressed into Geralt's skin. Touching Geralt was like reaching through a thin layer of static, the air a little more sluggish on his bare skin.

In his arms, Geralt tensed up and gasped. It turned into a drawn out moan when Duncan trailed both hands down Geralt's arms, barely touching him. 

With a satisfied grin, Duncan gave Geralt another nudge. "Lie down for me. Grab the chime ball."

He let Geralt wait for a second while digging in his bag for one more thing, then Duncan joined him on the bed, straddling him across his stomach. Duncan took care not to touch Geralt more than necessary while he showed him the blindfold he had grabbed. Geralt answered the unspoken question with a nod. 

Just tying the blindfold made Geralt squirm and keen softly and Duncan took hold of his wrists, holding them pressed together in one hand. He set out to explore Geralt's chest with tusks and tongue, sucking on the skin here and there to leave bruises.

***

Sitting on the bed and scooting backwards across it had never felt so intoxicating before. Bare skin dragging on the sheets, throbs of pleasure coursed into Geralt’s thighs and ass, making him utter a stifled moan as he laid his head back on the pillow. Geralt took the chime ball into his hand and even that felt too good, but he gripped it tightly anyway, waiting for the sweetness of it to settle.

Mind already swimming through the mists from Duncan’s attention, Geralt tried to settle himself. The way Duncan had held him, undressed him— like someone precious— it sunk into Geralt’s bones. Every kiss drove the feeling in deeper until he felt weighted down in the fog. Body stuck impossibly in the thick of it, only Duncan’s hand to hold and guide him through it, lest he get lost.

Geralt gasped lightly when Duncan came to sit over his stomach, pleasure singing on his skin there. Blindfold in hand, it was easy to nod his head in agreement, to let Duncan take that as well. Gods, Geralt would give him almost anything right now. Wanted to even. Wanted to let Duncan torture him with every simple pleasure, magnifying it tenfold, twentyfold, more.

The cloth wrapped around Geralt’s head, covering his eyes and drawing pleasure to his face until he let out a high sound, trying to squirm uselessly underneath Duncan’s weight. Fuck. That was good. So, so good. To be held down and touched like this. To know he could fight it and beg, worm and wiggle. That it was all for naught and that Duncan wouldn’t budge. Best of all— that Duncan _could_ hold him down.

The first lick made Geralt sigh as the silky pleasure flowed into it, then hiss and gasp when Duncan dug his tusks in a little bit. It was almost overwhelmingly good, the blunt edge of Duncan’s tusks threading a strong sensation underneath it that Geralt recognized most might have thought of as pain. To him though it was just rough traction and pressure, beautiful and perfect, teasing and pulling at his skin.

In his mind Geralt tracked the licks and scrapes across his chest. Heaving in a heavy breath when Duncan paused occasionally to suck hard at his skin, surely leaving marks. Those places throbbed with searingly hot euphoria even after Duncan’s mouth left them. Wisps of a pleasure winding down from them to Geralt’s cock, stiff and throbbing. 

Every touch left pleasure stirring higher and Geralt found himself clenching against it. Heels pressed into the mattress, cock already leaking, hips pushing up but going nowhere as he ground his shoulders back into the mattress and writhed underneath Duncan’s careful touches.

***

Duncan smiled against Geralt's stomach, face pressed into it. He sat on Geralt's thighs, letting him have enough weight that Geralt wouldn't be able to easily squirm out from under him. 

Leaning forward, he kissed Geralt and let go of his wrists. "You can touch me if you want to."

Another long kiss, and Duncan focused on the spell, let a little more of it flow into Geralt. He didn't want to overload him already, blind his senses completely with the pleasure, but he knew from Geralt's reaction that he could do it if he used the spell's full power. There would be time for that later.

He wanted to see Geralt come, take him apart and then do it again. And again. Sitting up, Duncan closed his fingers around Geralt's cock, dragged them along the shaft. It caused an immediate reaction that almost unseated him, Geralt arching up violently with a choked cry. 

Duncan held him down with his full weight on Geralt's thighs, his free hand on Geralt's shoulder. He stroked Geralt slowly, only lightly touching, thumb rubbing circles in the precum and spreading it over the head. 

"Come for me." Touching the way he knew Geralt liked, Duncan stopped playing with him, drove him towards the edge hard.

***

The pleasure of Duncan’s fingers swirling tenderly around the head of his cock, smearing the precum leaking there on it, made Geralt’s whole body tense up. Crying out he grabbed onto Duncan’s wrist and forearm with his hands, clutching at him where he had pinned Geralt down to the mattress when he bucked wildly. Fingers straining around the chime ball and pressing it into Duncan’s skin.

“Oh Gods!” Geralt could hear his own voice, harsh with want. “Please, please,” voice growing more airy the harder he panted Geralt begged, “please, Sir.” He pulled hard at Duncan’s arm trying to lift it and free himself, but Duncan leaned into him, giving him more weight and Geralt whimpered as pure white hot arousal flooded through his groin.

His cock jerked, his skin on fire with ecstasy. Balls aching with it, pulled up tight to his body, Geralt swore he could feel his heart beat through them. It was no surprise when his body disobeyed him, cock pulsing under Duncan’s light fingers, covering them in hot come.

It provided no relief though. Even as it fell limp, Geralt’s cock ached. His ass shuddering and clenching at the desire to be full, while also apprehensive of the idea. His balls were stuck somewhere between pleasure and pain that not even Geralt could define.

Duncan had laid his head down on Geralt’s chest again and Geralt could feel him smile, but his hand was still perilously close to touching Geralt’s cock. Geralt was quivering. Not done yet but riding the last wave of pleasure to its long inevitable end.

He licked his lips and released Duncan’s arm, wrapping his fingers all the way around the chime ball again. “Please, I…” Geralt’s words devolved into a moan again when Duncan used both hands to pin his hips to the bed and licked along the inside of his hip. “Fuck, it feels so good.”

***

Geralt's begging sent a shudder of desire over Duncan and for a moment he thought about fucking Geralt right now, but he wanted to take his time. Instead, he grabbed some tissues from the nightstand to clean Geralt up, gently wiping away the cum. When he was done, he covered Geralt's stomach in kisses, wandering down to his thighs.

He ignored Geralt's cock but finished by licking across his balls, holding him down with both hands to his hips again. Moving to sit next to Geralt, Duncan grabbed one shoulder and one hip and flipped Geralt over, lifted him easily up on his knees and pulled on his ponytail until Geralt was on all fours.

Duncan clicked open the lube and squeezed some on his fingers. With one hand caressing Geralt's back, up and down his spine, he spread it between Geralt's cheeks, circling his hole. When he pushed in with one finger, he grabbed Geralt's neck with his other hand to keep him in place. The wordless cry forced from Geralt encouraged Duncan to push into him with a second finger, right up to the knuckles of his hand. 

"I bet you can come again from this. If you want to, you can touch yourself. I won't. And I won't give you a break until you've come." Duncan set a slow pace, fucking his fingers in and out of Geralt in long, leisurely thrusts.

***

It didn’t matter that his cock was soft, every time Duncan’s fingers touched him Geralt shuddered with pleasure. The tissue on his cock was as intense as if Duncan had put his mouth there and sucked. The softness of Duncan’s kisses made Geralt gasp and whimper. Each one as good as a lick across his cock, building a pool of heat in his gut. 

They centered around his cock, avoiding it completely, Duncan kissing his stomach, then down to his thighs. Strong hands holding Geralt’s hips so firm to the bed Geralt couldn’t resist the urge to try pushing up into them, only to find the resistance insurmountable. He let out a soft groan at that. Then heat licked across his balls and coiled tightly behind them.

Duncan moved him like a child’s ragdoll. Pushing at Geralt’s hip and shoulder, pulling on his ponytail, drawing a lewd noise from Geralt’s slack jaw. There was a bit of pain there, but it was covered by so much pleasure it was unfair. Geralt could barely sense the way it pulled on the roots of his hair the way he loved, and he wasn’t sure if he was thrilled at the overwhelming pleasure or sad that he couldn’t have the pain.

Those thoughts all skittered away, scattered in the mists when one of Duncan’s thick fingers breached him. Instinctively Geralt tried to move forward, away from the overload of arousal, but a hand on the back of his neck kept him in place and then another finger joined the first.

There were sounds. Geralt recognized in the back of his mind. They were coming from him, and Duncan’s sultry threat was slithering in his ears. Duncan's thick fingers pumping in and out of his ass. Geralt reached one hand between his legs to touch his own cock, still soft. It was so good it almost hurt, which made it even better.

Eyes closed and mouth open, panting like a whore, Geralt stroked his fingers over his balls. On the next pass he continued up, drawing his fingers up his cock. It twitched under his hand and Geralt palmed it, thrusting his hips into to. The motion pulled his ass off of Duncan’s fingers and Geralt let out a disappointed whine. Rocked his hips back to reclaim them.

Duncan was right. He could come like this. The hand on his spine pulled pleasure there though and made it hard to balance. Without his eyes Geralt faltered, dropping his hand back down to the mattress and rocking back into Duncan’s fingers with more purpose.

“Please. I want to come for you. But I-” Geralt grunted in pleasure. “I can’t. I need help, Sir.”

Still Duncan’s fingers pumped into him in that same maddening rhythm. Constantly pushing his pleasure higher and higher. Making Geralt’s cock twitch and thicken where it hung between his legs. And then suddenly Geralt could hold no more and the bubble burst. His cock spurting all over the mattress below him as Geralt’s body shuddered and rolled through another orgasm.

***

Duncan held still, fingers pressed hard into Geralt all the way. He savored the way Geralt's ass clenched around him and the sounds he made, helpless gasps and cries. 

Pulling out, Duncan moved behind Geralt and wrapped one arm around him, getting him up on his knees. Duncan nipped and licked at Geralt's neck while he reached for Geralt's wrists again, holding them together. His other hand wandered down over Geralt's stomach, slipping through the wetness there until it found Geralt's cock.

The touch was enough to make Geralt cry out and flinch. Duncan tightened his grasp, holding Geralt against his chest while fondling and squeezing his balls, stroking his softening cock for the last of his cum.

"Look at you, coming all over the bed just from my fingers up your ass. You're getting a break but I won't stop touching you. Maybe I'll suck your cock after that, or maybe I'll fuck you. Haven't decided yet." Duncan gave a hard bite to Geralt's neck, sucked on the skin until he had left a mark that would surely turn into a bruise.

Geralt squirmed in Duncan's hold, breath loud and stuttering. Duncan had no intention of stopping any time soon, he wanted to hear Geralt beg for him to stop so he could ignore it and keep on touching him. 

With a long breath, he let more of the spell flow into Geralt. There was the faint smell of ozone, and a slight stickiness to the air around them. Duncan held back enough that he would overload Geralt's senses when he finally fucked him. But it still was more than enough to make his hand moving between Geralt's legs into torture.

***

Head thrown back against Duncan’s shoulder Geralt grasped at Duncan’s arm around him hard. Hard enough to leave bruises where his fingers dug into the muscles, still clutching the chime ball. Trapping it tight between his first three fingers and Duncan’s forearm. 

At first Geralt let the pleasure flow into him. Took what Duncan wanted to give him. Duncan was in control after all. But then the sensation increased. Growing, sparks in his cock flaring and taking light, until the places where Duncan’s fingers stripped down his soft length were on _fire_ with pleasure.

Hips squirming from side to side, Geralt tried to loose Duncan’s hand from his cock. Tried to give himself a break as he realized that the magic was building his body to another peak it wasn’t prepared for. It was useless though, Duncan had size on him, and strength. Geralt was well and truly caught.

Whimpering as the fire spread from his cock to his balls, swirled up to his groin and settled there getting hotter and hotter Geralt cried out. “Please, Sir. No more!” Stilling in Duncan’s vice grip Geralt panted, trying to breathe through the intense pleasure, willing his body to wait. A little longer. Just until he was ready. He wasn’t even hard yet, and the danger of coming was right there.

“Please, please… please.” Geralt got softer quieter, then a burst of energy came from him and he started to struggle again in earnest. Maybe the fight would stall things. “Wait! Don’t make me come again, Sir. Not yet.”

Duncan’s tusks dug into his neck and what should have been pain was so _good_ Geralt’s whole body stuttered in his hold. Right on the precipice. Real tears streaming down his face Geralt cried. 

“I’m not ready, Sir.” Softer and pliant Geralt let himself go. Let the tears go and let Duncan be in control.

***

Holding Geralt up with one arm across his chest, wrists still in his grasp, Duncan listened to the crying. Listened to it and mercilessly continued to do what Geralt was begging him to stop doing. 

Chest heaving with the sobs, Geralt hung in his arms. Duncan squeezed Geralt's cock, kept stroking and fondling and milking until Geralt arched up against him and hot cum spurted into his hand. Geralt's cries were loud in Duncan's ears, growing more quiet while the orgasm took his breath away.

Pleased with the result, Duncan let go of Geralt's wrists and hoisted him higher in his arms, pushed the covers to the side so he could lay Geralt down. He reeled the spell back in, coiling it tightly again in his mind so he could touch Geralt without overwhelming him even more. 

Grabbing some tissues, Duncan cleaned Geralt and himself up, placing soft kisses on Geralt's neck and arms. Geralt had curled up on his side, still sniffling a little and Duncan took off the blindfold, wiped away the tears on his face. He lay down behind Geralt and hugged him gently. A moan escaped him when this pressed his own cock against Geralt's ass, sending a rush of pleasure through him.

"We're not done yet. You're going to come for me one more time when I fuck you, but first you get a break. You were so good for me, you’ve earned it." Duncan propped himself up on one elbow so he could look at Geralt. "How do you feel? Are you okay?" He tapped a finger on Geralt's hand still clutching the chime to emphasize his question. 

The spell had driven Geralt almost to exhaustion, that much was clear. Skin shining with sweat and flushed, hair falling in strands, eyes half closed, and breathing only slowly returning to normal, Geralt looked worn out and drowsy. He was barely moving, falling soft against Duncan's chest into his embrace. 

Duncan would stop if Geralt asked him to now. He didn't want to push too hard. But he also wanted to see Geralt come apart under him, with Duncan's cock in his ass and made helpless by the spell.

***

Geralt floated. Carried by a strong current that steered him forward. All the lights were too much and he instinctively dropped his lids to dampen them. He was warm. And the water was soft. Softer than water should be.

He swirled in an edgy, caught in place with a branch tap tap tapping at his hand. Someone spoke softly from the banks and Geralt recognized the deep voice. Duncan.

Slowly reality seeped back in and the water receded, replaced by soft clean sheets. The current, Duncan's arms, and the branch tapping his hand— Duncan's finger asking him something.

Remembering the chime ball, now warm and slick with sweat in his hand, Geralt knew giving it up meant they were done. He curled his hand further around it and held it against his chest. 

All Geralt managed was a series of wiped out noises. His tongue uncooperative inside his mouth. He did get a hand on Duncan's though, bringing it up for an affection kiss to Duncan's palm.

Finally, after several tries and clearing his throat Geralt managed a few words. "Not done. Jus' wan' some water, please Sir?" He'd managed to roll onto his back a bit despite how utterly _exhausted_ he was and he was looking up and Duncan. A fond and proud face stared back at him that made Geralt's heart pick up speed.

***

Fishing for the water bottle he kept next to the bed, Duncan debated whether to stop now anyway. But the fact that Geralt kept it together enough to actually talk to him and ask for some water convinced him otherwise.

He passed the bottle to Geralt and pulled him up into a more or less sitting position, sprawled against Duncan's chest. Drinking half the bottle in one go, Geralt gave it back to him and Duncan drank the rest before lying back down and pulling Geralt with him. 

The water seemed to have brought Geralt back at least a little, enough that Duncan didn't worry about continuing any longer. They still spent a moment resting, curled into each other. Duncan had one hand resting on Geralt's chest but didn't move it much - the spell was still heightening Geralt's sense of touch and he couldn't drop it until they were done.

After a time, Duncan started petting Geralt, soft touches to his chest and belly, down to his legs, up his arms. He rolled Geralt on his stomach and straddled him, kissing a line down his spine. Breathing slowly, Duncan unfurled the spell again, the prickle of magic flowing from his hands into Geralt. And this time, he didn't stop until the tight coil in his mind had fully unwound. 

Duncan ran his hands down Geralt's flanks, leaving white marks with his fingernails that turned red. He grabbed Geralt's ass, kneading it and giving a hard bite to each cheek before working his way upward, marking Geralt's back with his tusks. Not hard enough to break the skin but it would leave bruises, for as long as they lasted. 

Grabbing the lube again, Duncan slicked himself up and roughly spread Geralt's legs to kneel between them. He spread some more lube on Geralt's hole, dipping in with one finger easily before setting his cock against it. Geralt squirmed and shuddered under him and Duncan put a hand between his shoulder blades to keep him in place as he pushed in.

***

The trails of Duncan’s fingernails down his flanks made Geralt grit his teeth. He wanted to scream with pleasure. Warm prickles of pain lying just underneath but too far away to grasp. Everything was blown wide open. Every touch excruciatingly arousing, making his cock throb and thicken beneath him. By the time Duncan had made it up Geralt’s back with his tusks Geralt was rutting into the sheets below him, only to cry out at the sparks it sent up his cock.

Vaguely Geralt was aware of the cold slick of lube and Duncan’s finger entering him. Everything around him had turned to a blur though. When it was replaced by the thick stretch of Duncan’s cock opening him up, he struggled away from it. Too much. Sparkles filled his vision and Geralt cried out, his cock jerked, leaking onto the bed pitifully. The edge of orgasm right there again.

The pressure of Duncan’s hand holding him down sent tingles down his arms. Even that felt too blissful. Duncan didn’t stop, sinking in slowly until he’d filled Geralt all the way up. Waiting a few heartbeats and then starting a punishing rhythm right from the start.

Geralt couldn’t stop the pleasure flowing into him. Curling in his gut and squeezing him there. Every time Duncan bottomed out inside him his spine felt like a live wire. After only a few thrusts Geralt’s ass was clamping down, wetness pooling between his belly and the bed as he screamed out.

The rhythm of Duncan’s thrusts continued and the sounds around him muted. Geralt panted and licked his lips, groaning softly at how good even that felt. His hole pulsed around Duncan’s cock and it was glorious. He let himself drift as the pleasure built again.

It didn’t matter that he was spent, that his body couldn’t get hard again. The magic was going to take him there and Geralt shuddered at the thought. Let Duncan be in control of it.

***

Geralt's desperate cries and how he writhed underneath him pushed Duncan right over the edge. He wrapped one arm around Geralt's chest and stretched out on top of him, rutting into him, all clear thought scattered before his lust.

Arching up and thrusting hard into Geralt one last time, Duncan spilled himself. His face buried against Geralt's neck, he cried out and gulped down air. Geralt keened under him, muscles tense and eyes closed. He looked frazzled, only barely holding on and Duncan couldn't resist him. 

Pushing himself up until he was sitting on his heels, he pulled Geralt across his knees, ass up and head down. Duncan slipped two fingers into Geralt's hole, slick with lube and cum, and reached around to fondle and stroke his limp cock. He wanted to see Geralt lose that last hold on himself, one more time.

***

The roughness of Duncan’s last thrust into him nearly pushed Geralt’s body over, filling him to the brim with buzzing bliss. But then it was over, Duncan pulled out, and Geralt was drawn up onto Duncan’s knees.

It wasn’t over though. Duncan wanted more from him and Geralt moaned weakly at the slick slide of Duncan’s fingers in his ass, now loose and welcoming. Clenching his fingers around the chime ball Geralt laid delirious from pleasure in Duncan’s hands. One more. He could give Duncan one more.

The euphoria spun higher, taking Geralt with it. Duncan’s hand on his cock hardly mattered he was so close, so very close. Splayed out over Duncan’s legs Geralt tried to move, exhausted and open. It only settled Duncan’s fingers up against that spot inside, and Geralt’s body overflowed.

Vision darkening for a moment and the world narrowing down to that point behind his balls, Geralt thought his soul would slip out his cock, but nothing did. Only his body jerked hard, ass clamping down on Duncan’s fingers, and Geralt gritted his teeth to try and contain a roar at the nearly painful sensation. 

Pulling in rough breaths through his nose with his jaw clenched shut, Geralt let the chime ball go. Let it roll out of his hand, knowing that Duncan would listen.

Immediately the stickiness in the air snapped away, and overwhelming pleasure was replaced by a welcome ache. The hands were gone from his body, but Duncan was right there next to him.

***

Duncan nuzzled at Geralt's neck, kissed him below the ear. The spell flowed out of his mind like water, running through his hands and into nothingness. For a moment, Duncan was almost sad to lose it, it was exciting to wield magic. But there were more pressing matters, Geralt needed him.

"Thank you." Duncan rolled Geralt into his arms and hugged him tight. "You okay?"

There was only a nod and a mumble, and Duncan knew he wouldn't get more right now. It was enough. He relaxed for a bit, enjoying how pliant and soft Geralt was in his arms.

When he started to nod off, Duncan roused himself. He nudged Geralt to get as much of his attention as he could. Not that it was much. A half-opened eye and a questioning noise was all.

"I'll be right back to clean you up. And the bed." Duncan padded into the bathroom for a washcloth and towels. He would change the sheets tomorrow, he decided. After wiping himself down, he went back to the bedroom and did the same for Geralt, rolled him aside, spread the towel over the wet spot and rolled him back. 

The covers were changed quickly enough and after getting some more water from the kitchen, Duncan curled up next to Geralt. In a last moment of energy, Geralt nestled into him, one arm flung over Duncan's side with his hand resting on Duncan's ass. 

Geralt was immediately asleep again and Duncan doubted he would wake before tomorrow morning, even though it was still before dinnertime. 

He was right. Duncan spent an evening first napping and then sitting up in bed reading and watching Geralt sleep. Eventually, he fell asleep himself, Geralt breathing peacefully next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Info:  
> discussion of mental health  
> (pre-negotiated) orgasm spell


	13. Is This Just Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _As much as he wanted breakfast, Geralt was happy to stay spread out on top of Duncan. Laughably pinning him to the bed. It would take only a quick movement from Duncan to unseat him, but Geralt was sure he wouldn’t._  
>  Discussions of fantasies, and acting out of said fantasies. Some of them.
> 
> Content info in the AN

The sun was peeking brightly through the windows and Geralt was comfortably tucked up under one of Duncan’s arms when he woke up. Oddly for a morning he was _awake_ too. And hungry. With nature demanding his attention. Good Gods, how long had he slept?

With a soft nibble to Duncan’s neck that made him rumble and blink awake immediately Geralt squirmed out from under his arm. “I’ll be right back, I have to piss.” That only brought a laugh from Duncan who rolled on his back, watching as Geralt hotfooted it over to the bathroom.

When he returned Geralt stole the covers away from Duncan and straddled him, pulling them back up to his shoulders and laying down on top of Duncan with his head on Duncan’s chest. The best pillow around. “That was… something else. I’ve never had someone exhaust me that way. Never to the point of coming without _coming_ like that. It was-- almost painful and thrilling at the same time. Impressive.”

Geralt drew a pattern randomly on Duncan’s shoulder while he waited to hear what Duncan’s thoughts were. Another thought entered his head, because his stomach growled loud enough for anyone to hear. “Also, I am starving. You’re going to have to cook me an extra breakfast now.”

***

"Mmh, I can do that." Duncan made no attempts at getting up though. It was much too cozy in bed right now. He wrapped his arms around Geralt after stuffing a pillow behind his head, running his palms up and down Geralt's back.

"I've had Rhys use that spell on me and it really _is_ something else. " He grinned up at Geralt. "You slept right through the night, didn't wake up once. And I'm glad that I got to try it out with you. I wasn't sure if you'd want to, but Rhys had made it for us already and so I took it along."

"It's such a trip to control a spell like that. I'm still not really used to the idea that I can actually do that. And seeing you come apart like that - it was hard to be patient and not hit you with the full force of it all at once. Good thing I can be patient." Duncan laughed and nestled deeper into the mattress. He had the need to hold Geralt, have him close. Eventually, hunger would drive them out of bed and he would definitely make a mountain of pancakes for them, but right now, Duncan didn't want to let go.

***

“It was exciting. I like trying new things, with you especially. What I get from Eskel is wonderful, reliable, exactly what I need— when I need it. He has me memorized I’d swear. But with you… it’s like every scene is an exploration. And you let me go deeper, harder, faster than what Eskel enjoys watching me do to myself?” Pulling his shoulders up in a stretch, Geralt encouraged Duncan to curl his fingers in for a back scratch. He didn’t have any itch in particular but the soothing trails of Duncan’s fingernails over his skin was so utterly satisfying Geralt could have fallen back asleep.

“And I _want_ you to see me come apart like that. See me helpless and know that you were the cause. It’s hard to explain, but giving that to you is a big part of it for me. I enjoy being there right on that edge, floating. But then I want to let you push me harder, take me right past where I wanted to be. That place is yours, what I want to give to you? It’s your reward. I don’t know, that probably doesn’t make sense, but it's how I think about it.” Geralt thought about it a bit longer. How Duncan took him to his good place and then afterwards he let Duncan have just a bit more as a thank you for helping him get there. That made sense to him. “It’s a thank you.”

As much as he wanted breakfast, Geralt was happy to stay spread out on top of Duncan. Laughably pinning him to the bed. It would take only a quick movement from Duncan to unseat him, but Geralt was sure he wouldn’t. He had no idea what was in the plans for today but his groin muscles weakly protested the thought of another hike. He’d moved and strained in ways swordfighting never made him. A witcher, laid low by fucking. Gerallt snickered quietly.

“For the record I am almost always up for magical intervention in bed. I have shared beds with more than one sorceress, and that was before I even met Rhys. It’s sort of an entrance requirement.” Rising up he crossed his elbows over Duncan’s chest and grinned down at him. “I have yet to dislike one of your suggestions too, which sort of sets me up to say yes.”

***

Duncan scritched Geralt's back and was rewarded with a contented sigh. "It makes sense to me, what you said about me pushing you further. I let Rhys push me and he takes me places I wouldn't have dared to go myself ever. And it's something I really like, for him to do and for me to give to him. So yeah, I get it."

He had worked his way up to Geralt's head and wound strands of hair around his fingers, gently tugging on them. They were softer than Rhys' hair and Duncan idly thought that he wanted to brush them, fix Geralt's ponytail again. But like breakfast, that was nothing he felt an urgent need to do right now. Not with Geralt still stretched out on top of him.

"It's fun to experiment, see what works for you, and for me. Roleplaying, that's something I want to do more of. I like that." Duncan hesitated the smallest moment, but Geralt seemed so relaxed and was talking so freely about what they were doing together. This was just Duncan's anxiety talking and he knew it. "Is there something in particular you'd like to try?"

***

Geralt smirked, lips going flat on one side and staying curled up on the other. “Oh so many things.” Laughing out loud Geralt rested his chin on his arms. “I like the roleplaying as you call it, a lot. I like being your whore for the night. That is something we can explore more of.”

“I’ve got a very active imagination for what kinds of things I want to try. I imagine waking up sometime and you’re already fucking me— with your fingers or your cock. You saw me there and couldn’t resist. And I have never really gotten my mouth used by you, and I want to. You don’t have to take that. It could be something I give you. You could let me earn something by taking you all the way and doing it well.” Geralt paused to think. Rolling the many, many, ideas he had collected around in his head. Some were tiny snips of a sex act he wanted to try, an others were completely filled out fantasies that he had entertained time and time again while touching himself.

“I want to try something truly painful and dark. That I can’t trust anyone else with. I want to be cut by you, have you make me terrified with a knife and make it _real_ , let me bleed for once. That fantasy scares me because I might accidentally take that too far.” Shaking his head Geralt frowned. “I really want to do that, but I want to have it be safe, as safe as anything that crazy can be? I don’t know— that one requires a lot of thought.”

“And I want to play with Rhys again, with you there. In charge of both of us. I want him to hurt me with the cane again but not have power over me, I want that to be you. That pain was like nothing else, and I-” a short pause passed while Geralt closed his eyes and admitted it to himself so he could admit it out loud, “-I was so turned on by how much it hurt. The way it hurt. I would like that again, only to have it be a good thing this time. To be told I am good for liking it?”

The great burst of energy that had propelled Geralt through his lengthy confession of desires died off as fast as it had started. There were many more he was sure but at the moment they had fled his mind. Geralt waited, surprisingly with little anxiousness, to hear what Duncan thought of his fantasies. Some fairly tame for them, some quite far from anything they had tried before.

***

Duncan tapped out a rhythm between Geralt's shoulderblades, thinking about it all. He was a little overwhelmed by choice, but that got mitigated by the fact that a couple of these required preparation. 

"I want Rhys to be there for the knife play. He can heal you afterwards, and if something goes wrong. He'll stop us if we get too lost. And he did knife play already with me. We went pretty far there - I'd have a ton of scars if Rhys hadn't healed the cuts." He drew figures of eight on Geralt's back, his other hand still playing with Geralt's hair.

"We can do all of this. I _like_ those ideas. A lot. And Rhys will be thrilled when you ask him to bring the cane into a scene. Would it work for you if we roleplay this? With Eskel having loaned you out to me and I want to show off how well you take pain to Rhys, let him try it out?" Thinking about this, Duncan was torn between rolling over and fucking Geralt into the mattress right now, or finally getting up and making breakfast because his stomach was doing its best to outvote his cock.

***

Excitement swept over Geralt. “You’ve done that before?”

Pitching himself forward, Geralt collided his mouth with Duncan’s in an unusually aggressive kiss. Noises poured from Geralt into Duncan and his hips rocked minutely over Duncan’s belly of their own accord. 

Catching himself, Geralt rested his forehead on the side of Duncan’s. Drew back from invading Duncan’s mouth, but couldn’t resist trapping Duncan’s lower lip between his teeth, grinning. A few deep breaths later he let it go. 

“Sorry. I just- I have wanted to have someone cut me like for so long. To let myself feel the pain and wallow in it and even feel ashamed of how much I like it. It’s scary but Gods I want it so bad.”

Geralt’s heart was thumping in his chest just thinking about it. The fact that maybe, finally it was something he could really think about doing. Letting it become something beyond a sordid fantasy.

Clearing his throat, Geralt kept his face pressed against Duncan’s, whispering right in his ear. “And I would love to act out Eskel loaning me to you and you showing me off. Rhys doing his worst and you praising me through it. Maybe even-” Geralt outright groaned at the idea, cock amazingly twitching where it was trapped between himself and Duncan’s hard abdomen, “-I could come? You could stroke me while he caned me, prove to him that I can get off even during that. Fuck.”

Head buried in the crook of Duncan’s neck now Geralt groaned again. The idea of orgasming through that kind of pain, or because of it, was so erotic to Geralt. “That would be so amazing.”

Geralt tried to slow down his mind, calm his lungs, and bring his heart back down to its normal dull thud but his body simply would not cooperate with him. His hips wanted to roll against Duncan despite their lingering soreness, and he ached to be full. The images of everything he wanted to do, to have done _to_ him flickered behind his closed eyelids.

Geralt swallowed, and let out a slow breath. “Can I ask for something right now?”

***

The sudden enthusiasm had taken Duncan's breath away. His stomach was now clearly outmatched, breakfast only a distant thought. The image of tying Geralt up with his hands above his head for Rhys to cane him and for Duncan to touch him however he wanted had gone directly to his groin. Geralt rolling his hips against him did not help in any way.

Duncan ran his hands down Geralt's flanks to his ass and grabbed him tight, squeezing hard. He sincerely hoped Geralt was not going to be reasonable and have plans for sex _after_ breakfast. But judging the way his pupils were eating up the golden iris, and how his pale skin had already flushed pink, food was not on Geralt's mind at all.

"Sure. As long as it involved us fucking, ask for anything you want." Duncan slipped a hand from Geralt's ass to his cock, ran the back of his fingers up the shaft. It twitched under his touch, already growing hard.

***

Pushing up to sit astride Duncan again, Geralt covered Duncan’s hand on his cock with his own. Held it there and savored the way he twitched and throbbed against it. “I want to sit on your cock. Ride you at my own pace, stroke myself and tell you things.”

Geralt scooted back, settling his ass right over Duncan’s cock, trapping it in that achy warm space between his asscheeks, the head nudging at the back of his ballsack. “Dirty things. My fantasies.” Fast breaths and salty arousal cascading over his nasal passages, Geralt couldn’t look away from Duncan. 

Setting his hands on Duncan’s chest, Geralt leaned forward, wide eyes watching Duncan’s face pleadingly. “Please? Let me? I want to fuck myself of you cock and come again. It’s going to hurt and I know it. I can’t tell you how bad I want to feel it.”

***

Duncan arched his back up, grinding himself against Geralt. He blindly reached for the lube that was still sitting on the nightstand and grabbed it at the last moment before his fingertips toppled it. 

With one hand fisted in Geralt's hair, Duncan forced him to his knees. Letting go, he instead went to grab Geralt's balls and held him in position like that, fingers tugging downwards just hard enough to draw a moan from Geralt.

Working quickly, Duncan spread lube on his cock, rubbed some on Geralt's entrance with two fingers. He didn't push in. If Geralt wanted it to hurt, he could take Duncan like that, work for his pleasure. 

Duncan gave Geralt's cock a few quick strokes with some more lube to slick it up and then let go of his balls, lay back with his hands resting easily on Geralt's hips. He looked up at Geralt, eyes half-closed and a slight smile curling his lips.

"So. Tell me what you want me to do to you. Or what you want Rhys to do to you while I watch. And look at me while you tell me." He gave a soft flick to Geralt's shaft, grasped his own to hold it steady for Geralt to sink onto.

***

Geralt couldn’t have looked away if he wanted to. It was part of the high, part of this fantasy itself. Circling his hand around his own cock he gripped it stiffly, not moving his hand over it yet, only holding it to feel it pulse in his fist. 

Resting his hole over the blunt head of Duncan’s cock Geralt groaned loudly and his cock jerked in his hand. Rocking gently over it, Geralt’s breath came fast and short, the ravenous look on Duncan’s face demanding his attention. 

Fuck. 

His rim was still tender from Duncan’s fingers mercilessly fucking into him the day before, from his cock stretching Geralt and filling him out.  
Still, Geralt was unable to deny to himself how much he wanted it, to feel that sweet burn of forcing Duncan’s thick cock right back into himself. 

“I want,” forcing his body down, Geralt inhaled deeply and relaxed as much as his buzzing body would allow him to, let the head of Duncan’s cock push up into him and hold his hole open, “you to scratch my neck with you tusks, hold my sides, tell me you want me to show off for you.” Gasping when Duncan popped inside fully Geralt clenched around the thickness, ass aching.

“Oh, fuck yes.” Lifting himself back up Geralt moaned when Duncan slipped out. Setting himself right back down on Duncan’s cock Geralt sought that first breach again. “Ask me if I can prove myself to you. If I can let a man hurt me however much he wants, and still come for you.” Geralt grunted wetly at the next breach, slicker, faster, easier, but still burning. “Gods I love this. The way your cock opens me up all by itself with nothing to prepare myself.”

Pulling off once more Geralt sank right back down, forcing the air out of his lungs when Duncan’s cock slipped in easily, burying the head and more inside his ass. “You’ll tell me how good I am, that you know I can take it, that you know I’ll like it but that it’s alright. That how much I like letting you hurt me, or having you let someone hurt me is our secret.”

Rocking up Geralt almost let the cock slip out but not quite this time, sinking back and taking more of it, softly running his hand up his own before returning it to grip the middle. “Praise me and tell that you think how hard I get when someone hurts me is beautiful. That you find me attractive, strong.”

Hand running up his cock again Geralt gave the tip a hard squeeze, so lost in his fantasy that he was leaking already. He pumped his thighs up and down, riding Duncan’s cock and biting his lip as he moaned through the sweet bliss of finally being full again.

“And then Rhys will come in and it will _hurt_. So bad. My legs will shake with the pain of it.” Geralt let his hand move fast over his cock at the thought. The memory of the last time Rhys had blazed his ass and thighs with a cane popping freshly into his mind. “And my cock will throb and drip and you will touch me.” 

Speeding up, Geralt’s hips undulated, rising and falling in shorter faster bursts over Duncan’s. “You’ll put your hand in my hair and kiss me, tell me it’s alright to come for you. Your hand on my cock, stroking and telling me how good I am.” 

Geralt’s hand was flying over his cock now, and Duncan’s was pulsing thickly in his stretched ass, every throb driving Geralt higher. He wanted the heat of Duncan’s cum to smear up inside of himself, the warmth of it to soothe the ache of his walls. Staring right into Duncan’s eyes, dark with desire, Geralt was right on the edge, and the way Duncan was holding his breath told Geralt he’d be full of cum soon.

“Am I good? Am I good for you?” Geralt wanted, needed, craved. And he knew Duncan would let him have it.

***

Duncan reached up, dragged Geralt down to him with one hand to the back of his neck and kissed him deeply. "You are. You're always good for me and I love you." 

He hadn't planned to say it like that but he meant it and had been on the edge of saying it for their whole stay here now. They had found back to their trust quickly after their fight and it had only confirmed Duncan's feelings. And seeing Geralt like this, lost and trusting Duncan to give him what he needed, it pushed Duncan over the edge in more ways than one.

Kissing Geralt again, Duncan prevented him from answering. And kept preventing him from getting his thoughts together by reaching down to stroke his cock, interlacing their fingers. He rutted up into Geralt, muffled Geralt's cries with his tongue. 

After one last hard thrust, Duncan stilled, his back arched and his cock buried to the hilt in Geralt. His hand gripped Geralt's neck harder while he shuddered and gasped, the rush of his orgasm taking away his coordination. Geralt clenched around his cock, making Duncan cry out helplessly at the sharp, painful pleasure. 

Hot cum ran over his fingers and spurted on his stomach, with Geralt half collapsed on top of him, twitching and moaning just as helplessly as Duncan. Wrapping his arms around him, Duncan held him tightly, not minding the mess between them. He just wanted to have Geralt close, skin on skin, with Geralt's heart beating so hard Duncan could feel it like his own.

***

Breathless and gasping, Geralt fell into Duncan. Eyes watering from the ache— in his ass, his balls, every inch of his cock— and the fine shiver of his exhausted muscles. Duncan's words reverberated in his head, past the rushing water of his pulse in his ear, and Geralt played them over and over.

Ass pulsing weakly around Duncan's cock as it softened and slipped out of him, Geralt groaned, low and lewd. Used the last of his strength to leverage himself forward and kiss Duncan's neck.

Duncan's jugular jumped under Geralt's lips and he opened his mouth to lick at it. Sucked the skin there gently but persistently. When Geralt finally unlatched his mouth his breathing had slowed enough to speak.

"I always tell you all the things about you I love, but it's you that I love. I wouldn't love those things about you otherwise." Relaxed and pliant, Geralt laid atop Duncan, legs still curled up along Duncan's side.

He was dazed and drifting, coherent enough to think but so very comfortable. "This was a good fantasy. I want to do this again— ride you like that with me in control but you ordering me to talk."

The way he was bent over Duncan with his legs still straddling Duncan's hips wide left Geralt open and stretched. He could feel Duncan leaking out of him and groaned at the thought. Everything between his knees and his abdomen ached. Five orgasms ripped from him in less than a day had left him strangely feeling bruised inside but sated.

"I think I need a bath." It came out a sleepy mumble. Geralt was losing the fight with exhaustion. "And so much food."

***

Fighting gravity and Geralt's weight, Duncan sat up and hoisted Geralt up on his hips. "Hold on. We're going to take a shower. Then breakfast. And then we're taking a bath."

Cleaned up and dressed, Duncan busied himself with making pancakes while Geralt watched him, perched up on the counter. Loading a tray with plates, the pancake mountains, syrup, jam, mugs of tea and some sliced apples, Duncan balanced everything outside. He had an inkling they wouldn't leave the house very much today and he wanted to soak up at least some sunshine while it lasted.

With a content sigh, he leaned back after devouring three pancakes in record time and sipped his tea. Geralt was still engrossed in decimating his own pancake mountain, avalanches of syrup burying apple slices alive. Duncan covered his last pancake in strawberry jam and ate at a much slower pace.

"Yesterday - didn't push too hard there? You safeworded out of that, that's why I ask. I would have stopped there anyway. And I'm-- don't take this the wrong way. I'm proud that you did. That you recognized that you had enough and remembered about the chime ball. And didn't get lost." Duncan watched Geralt from across his mug of tea, blowing on it to cool it down.

***

Chewing a giant mouthful of pancake Geralt swallowed it down while peering at Duncan. If he was honest he had sort of forgotten that he had used his ball. It wasn’t a big deal. Duncan had done what he needed and kicked right over to taking care of him.

“It was exactly enough. Not too much.” Sipping his tea to wash down the mound of pancake he’d swallowed Geralt cleared his throat. “I didn’t know when you were going to stop, but I knew that I wanted to give you that last bit and then I was _done_? I couldn’t anymore, so I didn’t.” With a shrug Geralt went back for another bite of pancake. He needed to busy his mouth so he had time to think where he wasn’t expected to talk.

Duncan watched him in a comfortable silence for that bite and then next before Geralt returned to his tea. “I wouldn’t say I wasn’t lost exactly. I do still get very…” Geralt waved the hand not holding his mug up in the air, “...but the chime ball is a physical thing so it’s so much harder to forget? I don’t have to remember to speak or what to say, or to say it outloud and not in my head. I just— let go. When I’ve let go of everything else and have no more to give I let go of that too and we’re done.”

“It’s alright. I _know_ you’ll stop if I do that. Or slow down if I shake it.” Geralt laughed at himself and took a sip of tea, smiling at Duncan knowingly. “And it’s not like I’ll let you have it before I want to be done.” Now that he thought about it the chime ball had very much become a representation of when it was time to play with Duncan for him. 

Geralt wasn’t really sure when, exactly, that had happened but he was sure playing without it would feel— odd. And equally sure that if he went and got it, then walked up to Duncan without a word and showed it to him, that he could initiate a scene in a moment.

Sitting back with his mug in both hands, Geralt watched Duncan across from him. “I like the ball.”

***

Duncan chewed and swallowed the last of his pancake before answering. "I'm glad - it works well for me, too. Tell you what, I have another one of them, you keep this one so we can use it as a signal for asking to play. I have something like this with Rhys, for when we don't feel like talking things out before."

"I'd like that." Geralt seemed pleased with the idea. But from the way he slumped in his chair, like the tea mug was holding him upright instead of the other way around, Duncan knew it was time to stop planning. 

He started to gather up the dishes, kissed the back of Geralt's neck when he walked past him. "I'm going to draw us a bath. I'll come get you when it's ready."

~~~~~~

A bath, another nap and a leisurely walk around the pond later, they had come back to sun dried bedsheets on the clothesline. Making the bed was quick work between the two of them and they trekked upstairs with the vague idea of a movie before dinner. 

Duncan, however, had other plans. He had swiped some clothespins, had pocketed the chime ball from the nightstand and now he grabbed Geralt around the waist before he could sit down on the couch. Pressing the ball into Geralt's palm, Duncan gave a soft bite to Geralt's earlobe. "I think it's time you showed me what you can do with your mouth."

***

Geralt had been excited when Duncan had suggested he keep one of the chime balls and they could use them as a way of initiating play. He really was rather attached to it, it made him feel secure, comfortable, in control, but only in the little way he needed to be. Everything else was in Duncan’s hands.

So when Duncan captured him and pressed it into his hand unexpectedly Geralt’s heart thudded in his ears.

He did want to show Duncan what he could do with his mouth. Had wanted to since the day he dropped to his knees to suck it in the Passiflora and Duncan had denied him the chance to take it all. Geralt walked forward as Duncan stepped backward, arm still wrapped around his waist holding him.

They ended up on the couch, Duncan sprawled out, legs spread wide with Geralt leaning over him, one knee between them. “It’s not my mouth, it’s yours, Sir.” Geralt rested the hand he held his chime ball in on the back of the couch while he whispered in Duncan’s ear. Kissed down the line of his neck from it until he reached Duncan’s shirt collar.

Rising off the couch Geralt stood up straight and tall, grinning ear to ear. The thought of getting to pleasure Duncan without having to do anything for himself was suddenly very appealing. Crossing his arms, Geralt grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, ponytail bouncing behind him with his enthusiasm.

Crouching in front of Duncan, Geralt pushed his hands up under Duncan’s shirt, rucking it up until he could lick and kiss Duncan’s chest. Geralt spent some time there, tasting Duncan’s clean skin and testing his teeth against the thickness of Duncan’s chest muscles, occasionally glancing up to make sure he wasn’t going out of bounds. 

Geralt worked his way lower and lower until he was down on his knees for Duncan. Pressed his cheek right up to Duncan’s cock through the fabric of his cargo pants. For a moment he let himself just take in the way Duncan’s cock twitched against his cheek, his crotch warm even through the fabric. Then he took one side of Duncan’s waistband in his teeth, held the other with his free hand and pulled, popping the button open.

Very slowly, while looking up at Duncan, Geralt continued to pull his hand and his mouth in opposite directions, the sound of the zipper satisfyingly metallic as it unravelled itself. Peeling back the corners of Duncan’s fly Geralt placed his open mouth over Duncan’s thickening cock. Let out a hot heavy breath, the kind he knew would filter right though Duncan’s boxers to his skin and moaned around the mouthful he’d given himself.

With one hand still holding his ball and buried under one of Duncan’s massive thighs, Geralt kneaded the other through Duncan’s pants and mouthed at his cock through his boxers until they were wet with his saliva. A hand around the base of his ponytail drew a thick moan from Geralt, muffled by his mouth full of cock and cloth.

Taking a deep breath in Geralt lifted his head just a bit. Tugged at Duncan’s boxers with two fingers and bit his lower lip. “Off? Please, Sir?”

***

Happy to oblige, Duncan arched up to free his cock from the boxers, not bothering to get up and undress completely. He was fine with shackling himself a little in order to get Geralt's mouth on his cock again as soon a possible, and he liked the urgency of it.

At the first touch of Geralt's tongue, Duncan moaned loudly and fell back against the couch. With one hand in Geralt's hair, he kept a grip on the ponytail but didn't attempt to hold Geralt down or dictate the pace. He just wanted to feel Geralt move under his hand, fingers gently tugging at the strands of hair caught between them.

He watched Geralt, eyes half closed. It was clearly a struggle for Geralt to take him and he went too fast, made himself gag. Duncan gave a stronger tug at his hair to make him look up.

"Slow down. Take your time, I want to enjoy this." He slipped his hand into his pocket and showed Geralt the clamps, the chain between them dangling from Duncan's hand. "Do you want these? I'll keep hold of the chain so I can get you to slow down or go faster. Have a leash on you."

***

Looking up at Duncan with the head of his cock still in his mouth Geralt whined softly and squeezed his eyes closed a moment to clear the tears gathered there by reflex. A small war was taking place in his head. He didn't want to slow down, he wanted to swallow all of the massive cock on offer, now, before he could lose the chance again. He also wanted to please Duncan, show him how good of a cockslut he could be. And for that he needed a distraction or he would rush.

Moaning deeply with a mouth full of cock Geralt conceded to himself he would have to let it go for a moment. Swirling his tongue around the head, Geralt gathered every bit of salty, musky, manly goodness he could and savored it before letting it fall out of his mouth.

Nodding and licking up Duncan's cock from the base to the tip, Geralt eyed the clamps. He hoped that holding them gave Duncan half the satisfaction wearing them did for him. The lack of direct answer from Duncan to his nod meant he wanted words, out loud, and Geralt struggled to put a few in the right order.

"Yes, please Sir. I want them." Thinking about how that sounded Geralt added in, "I want you to enjoy this too and I think they'll help me slow down." Not wanting to talk anymore Geralt wrapped his mouth around the side of Duncan's cock again, licking up the shaft.

Silver flashed in his eyesight. Duncan laying the clamps neatly over his own thigh. "If you need them, take them. You know how they work."

Pinky and ring finger still curled around his chime ball holding it tight to his palm, Geralt reached out and took the first clamp. The chain slithered pleasantly behind it as he brought it up to his chest.

Geralt's nipple perked up at the touch. It wasn't as cold as he'd expected— the clamps had warmed in Duncan's pocket— and Geralt wondered how long he'd had them there. Sucking over the head of Duncan's cock Geralt stretched his jaw and pulled Duncan into his mouth again.

As unobtrusive as possible Geralt reached up and tugged at his piqued nipple. Rolling it between his thumb and forefinger he pinched it and drew it away from himself.

Sighing around Duncan's cock in his mouth Geralt let it rest right at the back of his throat. Squeezed the middle of the clamp and let it snap on his nipple. It took a minute for the ache to build, but it became solid and noticeable by the time Geralt had teased his other nipple into its partner

Duncan's fingers tangled in the chained giving it a short tug and Geralt frowned. Pushed himself forward after a deep breath and let the buzzing in his head take over. The sheer girth of Duncan's cock entering his throat made Geralt's eyes water again.

Eventually Geralt had to give in. Back off again. Coughing to clear his throat did nothing to improve the way it watered for Duncan's cock. After a few deep swallows and a slight tug on his chain by Duncan, Geralt surged forward bringing Duncan right back up against his throat.

Pushing himself forward Geralt swallowed around it and kept pushing. The urge to gag was ever present but the urge to please was overriding it.

***

With a finger hooked into the chain, Duncan gave little tugs on the clamps. He had hesitated to offer them to Geralt, but had figured that the pain would help Geralt not getting carried away. It seemed to work as intended, Geralt took his time.

Duncan kept his free hand curled in Geralt's hair, petting him gently. Wiping away a few tears when they overspilled. There was a little worry for Duncan in watching Geralt clearly struggle with taking him. But he did trust Geralt, trusted that he knew what he was doing and when it was too much. 

He gave a loud moan when his cock slid into Geralt's throat. Just the tip of it, and Geralt drew back almost immediately, but he seemed to have found the right way to do this now. Moving forward again, Geralt swallowed around Duncan, drawing another moan from him at the squeeze. 

Geralt managed to take him a little deeper before coming up for air with a choked gasp. Duncan traced the line of his jaw with his thumb, watched Geralt suck and lick on his shaft for a bit while he got his breath back.

"You're so good for me, doing so well." Duncan ran the chain through his fingers, not pulling on it, just moving it. Between his legs, Geralt shivered and made a quiet keening noise, muffled by Duncan's cock in his mouth.

***

Duncan’s words melted over him and Geralt pushed forward, arms slipping around Duncan’s hips. With one hand kneading Duncan’s muscular ass, Geralt took a breath through his nose and sank his mouth down over Duncan’s cock again. It was thick and Geralt focused on the tiny movements of Duncan’s thumb on his face instead of the allconsuming press of Duncan opening up his throat.

A guttural moan rolled out of Duncan and thrill ran up Geralt’s spine at the sound, making his hair stand on end. Prickling with a sense of achievement. Geralt laid the top of one socked foot against the sole of the other, toes curling with pride. 

Trying to set an easy rhythm, Geralt came back to the head, licked and sucked at it while he caught his breath each time before sliding down and letting Duncan’s cock stretch his throat wide again. It was slow and Geralt was thankful Duncan hadn’t simply pushed his way in. This wasn’t something he had exceptional talent at. He was capable, but one of the things he loved about Duncan was that he was massive— tall even for an ork— muscled and thick, and his cock was no exception.

The clamps drew his attention away from the urge to hurry, the need to please Duncan _now_. Gave him pause every now and then with the dull ache they spread in his chest. When he went too fast, got too out of breath, they would jiggle or Duncan would run his finger along the chain and a little spike of pain would shoot into him. Remind him to slow down.

Every time Geralt came up, his tongue played over Duncan’s cockhead and licked the sensitive slit before he went back down, Duncan’s cock reaching further and further into his throat until finally it rested all the way inside. 

With his nose buried up against Duncan’s pubic bone and Duncan’s huge cock thrumming in his throat, Geralt looked up at him from an angle serenely. Toes still curled hard and legs squeezed tightly together in satisfaction, with his arms resting around Duncan’s hips and thighs.

***

Duncan gripped tighter without really meaning to, fingers curling around the back of Geralt's neck and into his own thigh. He didn't pull on the chain or push Geralt forward but the way his fingers pressed into Geralt's neck and pulled on his hair probably hurt. It was either that or roll his hips, though. The last thing he wanted was _make_ Geralt choke right now.

He knew that he couldn't keep this still much longer. Watching Geralt force himself to take all of Duncan's cock had been intensely arousing. It clearly was not something Geralt enjoyed as such, and he was still blinking away tears, fighting not to gag. But he also very clearly wanted this, had gone slow and patiently until he had managed.

Loosening his grasp, Duncan caressed Geralt's neck and ear, running a finger over his cheekbones. "You feel amazing--" 

Almost melting into the couch, Duncan gave a soft tug on Geralt's ponytail. "Please, I need to move." As slowly as he could, Duncan canted his hips to pull back and thrust forward again, hoping Geralt would move with him. The leisurely pace was just right for Duncan and he thought Geralt could match it without getting overwhelmed. 

The glide of his cock in and out of Geralt's throat made Duncan keen softly. He was breathing hard, his head arched against the back of the couch.

***

A little bit of tension bled out of Geralt when Duncan relaxed his painful grip. He hadn’t noticed it growing tighter but when Duncan loosened it Geralt immediately softened. Blissfully sated by Duncan’s tender caress on his face Geralt stayed as relaxed as he could when Duncan tilted his hips away, drawing his cock along Geralt’s throat before giving a slow thrust back into.

Geralt focused only on his breathing. Keeping it slow and steady in time with the pitch and roll of Duncan’s hips. Seeking out a steady rhythm that allowed him to take a breath each time Duncan angled his hips back and Geralt drew away slightly, before he would surge forward to meet Duncan’s thrust.

There was no stopping the way his eyes watered though, and Geralt merely blinked away the tears. It didn’t feel good physically, but it felt _good_ to know that he was pleasing Duncan. Warmth spread in Geralt’s chest that had absolutely nothing to do with the, by now, burning sensation from the clamps.

From between Duncan’s legs Geralt tried to watch, looking up to see Duncan’s head thrown back and throat exposed as he thrust subtly faster, panting his pleasure in tiny gasps of air. The sight made Geralt whine low in the back of his throat, the sound vibrating around Duncan’s cock as it sunk back in. Which in turn forced a rough and _loud_ moan from Duncan’s open mouth.

***

There was no way Duncan could hold himself back much longer. The way Geralt submitted to him, made himself suffer just to please Duncan was downright intoxicating. And a little frightening, but he'd think about that later. Right now, he just wanted to come, to let Geralt have all of him.

Duncan tightened his grip on the chain, gave a warning tug and then a sharp yank that pulled them free all at once. Geralt's reaction was immediate. A violent flinch that drove Duncan's cock even deeper into him. Loud noises that might have been painful cries but were only muffled moans. And a faster pace, matching that of Duncan's thrusts.

The noises Geralt made made his throat tighten around Duncan, vibrated through his cock. The last of Duncan's control crumbled and he bucked up into Geralt's mouth, no longer paying attention whether Geralt could cope. He only chased his pleasure, running towards the edge and falling over with a shout. With Geralt struggling to swallow, Duncan slumped, jerking hard while his cock got milked.

***

Trying to cry out in pain with Duncan’s cock stuffed into his throat only succeeded in tightening it around Duncan further. A cold shiver broke out all over Geralt at the shock of pain, the almost frightening lack of air as Duncan drove into him seeking his release. Geralt pulled in a breath of air every rare chance he got but when Duncan shouted, thrusting hard and deep Geralt could only squeeze his eyes shut and try to keep up.

Geralt swallowed the first hot pulse of cum that shot into his throat. It was uncomfortable. His body struggling to work around something so thick, but the relieved sound of satisfaction from Duncan slumping against the couch pushed Geralt through it. It must have felt so good for Duncan, that tight swallow while he was peaking.

It was more than he could keep up with though and very quickly Geralt was gagging. Cum and drool running down his chin, around Duncan’s cock where it lay on Geralt’s tongue. Geralt let his head fall into the crook of Duncan’s hip sideways. Kept Duncan’s softening cock in his open mouth. Not sucking, not licking, just holding it there warm and wet and softly twitching.

Staring up at Duncan, Geralt marveled at how gentle Duncan looked after finding his pleasure. He was calm despite his throat feeling raw and breathing like he’d just run too far too fast. Balls pulled up tight in pants and cock hard, Geralt only wanted to crawl up into Duncan’s arms and be held. His hair felt tight, and he wanted to be touched, but only in that lovely way that Duncan sometimes petted him. Hands and fingernails tracing over his skin telling him he was good.

***

It took a while for Duncan to come out of his stupor, to get his breath back. He moved and his cock slipped out of Geralt's mouth. Sitting up, Duncan tucked himself back into his underwear, ignoring the need to wash up for the moment. 

Geralt was still kneeling between his legs, head against his thigh. Duncan leaned forward and picked him up, pulled him into his lap. Straddling him, Geralt lay heavy against his chest. Duncan wiped saliva and precum from Geralt's face with a tissue where he hadn't been able to swallow it down. His cock pressed into Duncan's stomach but Geralt didn't seem in a hurry to do anything about it, and Duncan thought that maybe he didn't want to. Not after yesterday and this morning.

He wrapped his arms around Geralt, one hand scritching at the soft hairs of his undercut and the other drawing shapes on his back. Tipping Geralt's head up into a kiss, Duncan tasted himself and gave a soft shiver. There were still traces of tears on Geralt's face and he kissed those, tasting salt.

"That was amazing. You were. Thank you." Duncan scooted over with Geralt to grab a water bottle from the table next to the couch. He offered it to Geralt, thinking that maybe he'd like to soothe his throat a bit with it. "Do you want to keep playing, or would you rather just be held?"

Giving Geralt a one-armed squeeze before returning to petting him, fingernails tracing his scars, Duncan gave a last, involuntary, shudder. "It wasn't too much, was it?"

***

The water was a relief, sliding cooly down Geralt’s throat. The buzz in his mind was strong and although he heard Duncan’s words it took him quite a while to process them. Long enough that he had taken several more sips. Geralt swore he could feel his own pulse in his balls, he was so aroused. But his body ached inside. He’d pushed himself in the last twenty four hours hard. Duncan could _make_ him come now, but he didn’t really want to.

Geralt’s ponytail swished softly behind him when he shook his head side to side. “No, it was exactly what I wanted to give you. It didn’t feel good but _I_ feel good that I did it? I’d do it again.” Pressed against Duncan’s chest like this Geralt’s nipples hurt. And he let his attention settle on that, it was a real pain now that the headiness of giving his mouth to Duncan was gone. It helped drain some of the desire out of his cock.

“I don’t think I want to do anything more. I just want-” Geralt shifted gingerly on top of Duncan’s lap, “-yeah, I want you to hold me until I calm down.” Another sip of water and Geralt laid his head on Duncan’s shoulder, closed his eyes and focused on the throb of his cock pinned between them. How good it felt, but he didn’t need more.

“Touch me please? My back and my hair. Feels good.” The request was mumbled against Duncan’s shoulder as Geralt drifted in the warm comfort of it all.

***

Duncan placed a kiss under Geralt's ear. "I know what you mean. Sucking cock like that never feels good to me, but I still like it a lot. Like giving this to Rhys, or to you. The fact that I don't really enjoy it, that it even scares me sometimes, only makes it better."

He put the water bottle away and pulled Geralt up higher on his lap again. Stretching out, Duncan sank lower into the couch, stuffing some cushions behind his back until he was comfortable. Geralt seemed already on the verge of dozing off and Duncan didn't mind at all. 

Eventually, dinner would need to be made, but right now, they had all the time they wanted to just sit here and relax. Duncan unwound the leather strip from Geralt's hair, let it fall open and dug his fingers between the strands, tugging and scritching. With his other hand, he caressed Geralt's back.

Matching Geralt's slow, even breathing, Duncan's own limbs grew pleasantly heavy. With the resident blackbird singing outside, sweet and clear, they both sunk down into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content info:  
> rough (but very consensual) anal/oral sex


	14. Pictures of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Picking up a piece of charcoal, Rhys started to sketch. Eskel looked vulnerable to him, stretched out on the bed with the pillow in one arm. It wasn't something a lot of people got to see, and Rhys appreciated every glance at it he got. He wanted to capture it, put on paper how soft Eskel appeared to him._  
>  A drawing session from life. Touching the model very much allowed.
> 
> Content Info in the AN

Rhys watched Eskel from the couch, curled up under a blanket with a cup of tea cradled in his hand. Moving slowly through the forms Duncan had taught him, Eskel kept his focus on a point off in the distance. He had taken to practicing with Duncan's bamboo sword on the roof where there was enough room, but a hard rain had brought him inside and he had decided against the park for tai chi.

Which meant that Rhys got to study his movements and expressions at leisure. The way he was perfectly balanced at all times, setting his feet and moving his hands with deliberation. Eskel had taken to tai chi quickly and showed the same unexpected grace Duncan did. Rhys thought to himself that he would really like to see them both together.

Getting up slowly, Rhys grabbed his sketchbook from the shelf and started doing a couple of rough drawings. Just poses and details. A hand unfurling like a flower, Eskel's serene and unguarded expression, a dramatic pose Duncan had told him was called White Crane Spreads Its Wings.

Outside, the rain was only getting worse, hitting the windows in a gentle but persistent rhythm, dark clouds swallowing the light. They hadn't had any specific plans for today and it looked like a day to spend inside. Rhys waited until Eskel was done before speaking, not wanting to disturb his concentration.

"How do you feel about letting me draw you nude? I'm in the mood to sketch and I think I would like to explore you a little more." He held up the sketches he had already made. "I want to take my time with it, to see what I can capture on the page."

***

Eskel padded over to Rhys on the couch and sat down cross legged next to him. “I like it when you draw me.” It was an honest statement and the ease with which it came out surprised Eskel a little.

Leaning into Rhys and laying his face against the back of Rhys’ shoulder, Eskel peeked over it at the sketches Rhys had made. His arm snaked around Rhys’ lower back and Eskel really took in the pictures. He did love to see what Rhys captured of him. It made him feel unique. Special. Even the idle moments Rhys put on paper were precious to him.

No one cared enough about witchers to document anything about them in this way, but Rhys cared enough about him to do it.

“I’ve never had anyone draw me naked. I mean- I don’ mind bein’ naked, jus’ not sure what the point is? If you wanna diagram every twisted scar I’ve got though…” Eskel kissed Rhys’ shoulder smiling, “... you are more ‘an welcome to. Jus’ tell me where you want me.”

***

"I think the bedroom works best." Taking Eskel's hand, Rhys pulled him upright and gave him a gentle shove in the right direction. "I'll get a couple of things, then I'll be right there."

With a tablet full of snacks, art supplies and a bottle of apple juice balanced on his arms, Rhys opened the bedroom door with his hip and let it fall shut behind himself. He found Eskel on the bed, hugging a pillow to himself, unconcerned about his nakedness.

Setting the tablet down on the nightstand, Rhys made a circuit of the room to light candles. The rain had turned into a spring storm, with thunder rumbling in the distance. Despite it being early in the day, the room needed the candles, and Rhys did like the effect their flickering light had.

With a few taps on his commlink, Rhys called up some music, the volume turned down so much it wouldn't bother Eskel. The mix of a slow beat and traditional Japanese instruments immediately calmed Rhys and put him in the right mood for this.

Eskel had turned over to follow Rhys' path and the candlelight deepened the honey colour of his eyes. Rhys came to him for a kiss. "Feel free to get yourself something to eat, or talk to me. If I need you to stay in one position, I'll tell you."

He backed off to sit in the armchair and spread his pencils, charcoal and chalks out on the little table next to it. Picking up a piece of charcoal, he started to sketch. Eskel looked vulnerable to Rhys, stretched out on the bed with the pillow in one arm. It wasn't something a lot of people got to see, and Rhys appreciated every glance at it he got. He wanted to capture it, put on paper how soft Eskel appeared to him.

***

For a short moment Eskel didn’t really know what to do with himself. Not because he was embarrassed, but just because he never _posed_ for Rhys. Every time Rhys had drawn him before was spur of the moment, a candid slice of his time captured and stored forever on paper.

Taking hold of Rhys’ suggestion to have a snack, Eskel leaned over his pillow and stole a few of the orange wedges Rhys had left on the nightstand. They were already peeled and sectioned exactly how Rhys had shown him the first time and Eskel was suddenly sure they were meant just for him anyway.

Smiling at Rhys, Eskel relaxed back, enjoying the burst of flavor from the first wedge. With his head resting sideways on the pillow in front of him, Eskel watched Rhys. Fed another wedge into his mouth as Rhys’ hand moved around his sketchbook with confident ease.

“I like watchin’ you do things you’re good at.” Eskel didn’t expect an answer exactly; he was talking to fill the space. The low thump and whine of the music was soothing and along with the dimmer light it put him in a lazy mood. “You’re good at drawing.”

“Even lowly witchers like me. You take the time to make me last forever on paper, jus’ the same as anyone else.” Running his hand along the top of the pillow in front of him Eskel looked up at Rhys. “No one else would bother, drawing a vicious witcher like me.” With a huge smile and sudden laugh Eskel dove his face into the pillow and bit it, growling at Rhys. Eyes bright and wide with humor.

***

Rhys giggled at the sight and hurried to catch Eskel's expression. A full out laugh wasn't something he got to see all that often, definitely not with pencil in hand. He loved how lighthearted Eskel was, and how unfazed he was by being the focus of Rhys' attention. There was no trace of self-consciousness, and he seemed to truly enjoy himself.

"It's well worth my time. You're special to me. And it lets me get to know you better. You learn a lot of things about people, drawing them." Using a finger, Rhys worked on the shading of his main drawing, adding scars and details until he was satisfied. It still was only a sketch, but he thought it captured Eskel well and the charcoal had been a good choice. It allowed him to sketch in broad strokes and then work in the smaller things. 

"Do you want to see?" When Eskel nodded, Rhys got up and sat next to him on the bed, handing over the sketchbook.

***

Eskel stared at his figure on the page. He wasn't handsome but he was struck by how _happy_ he looked. It was clear as day on the page that he was having fun, horsing around naked on the bed.

Stuffing his pillow to the side, Eskel pushed up on one elbow curling his arm around Rhys and handing the sketchbook back. "Thank you."

"'M glad 'm special to you, 'cause 'm in love with you." Eskel kissed Rhys' shoulder and pressed his face against it. He was glad he'd finally said it out loud. That it was no longer a thing he was waiting for the right time to say.

***

Rhys put the sketchbook away carefully so the drawing didn't smudge. Once he got his hands free, he pounced on Eskel, pushing him over on his back. He bent down for a long, deep kiss. 

"I love you, too." Another kiss and he let Eskel go again, but stayed on top of him, sitting on his stomach. "It kind of snuck up on me, and I wouldn't have thought things would happen as they did back in Novigrad. I just wanted to see Geralt again and find out if the guy he was with was good for him. But I wouldn't want it any other way."

Wiping away a coal smudge he had left behind on Eskel's cheek, Rhys took a breath and sank into the moment. Into the warmth and intimacy of it, and the easiness of their talk. How the candlelight shone on Eskel's skin, and how his hair fell into his eyes in unruly strands. Rhys brushed them aside, ran a thumb over Eskel's eyebrow.

He picked a handful of dried figs off of the plate, offered one to Eskel and bit into another one. It was soft and sweet, leaving the taste of fruity honey on his tongue. 

"Are you up for another drawing? You can say no, but I would love to draw you while you touch yourself. Give yourself pleasure however you want." And afterwards, he had plans to do a lot more than just watch and draw, but that could wait.

***

Eskel rolled up, stealing a warm fruity kiss from Rhys. “Yeah.” 

When he laid back he didn’t look away from Rhys sitting on his stomach. “I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I liked watchin’ you do things you’re good at. I find the confidence you have in yourself when you do 'em really sexy.”

Running his hands up either one of Rhys’ thighs, Eskel smiled languidly. “‘S prolly harder keep those thoughts out of my mind when ‘m layin’ here than it would be to let m’self think about 'em while you draw me.” 

The broad grin Eskel’s answer got from Rhys was enough to make his heart skip a beat already. “Go sit. Lemme watch you?”

***

"As much as you want. I'll be watching right back." Rhys took one last kiss with him on the way and sat back down in the armchair.

Sorting through the pencils and chalks he had brought, he tried to decide what would be right for this. His attention was on the task and very deliberately not on Eskel, letting him get comfortable and watch for a bit without being observed in turn. There was the slight shuffle of pillows and sheets while Eskel moved around on the bed.

Rhys finally decided on red chalk and looked up, hand poised over the paper. He was met by Eskel's gaze and slight smile. With a pile of pillows at his back, Eskel was sitting with his legs open. One hand was teasing his cock into hardness, the other drifting over his stomach down to his thigh. 

It struck Rhys how gentle Eskel was with himself. Touching himself only slightly, he took his time. It fit him well, Rhys thought. All that patience, and the appreciation of small pleasures. 

The light of the candles threw shadows on Eskel's scars, making them more visible. But it also gave his skin a warm glow, especially with the flush of arousal spreading across his chest and face. The way his muscles moved and shifted made Rhys give a small shiver. 

Chalk flying over the page, Rhys tried to capture all of it. First just a rough sketch, almost impressionistic, to catch the mood. And then he set to work on a more details drawing, at a more leisurely pace. He was sure Eskel would find a way to keep himself occupied.

Rhys looked up and stopped sketching for a moment, caught by the sight of Eskel presenting himself completely unconcerned and open. Trusting Rhys with this intimate act. "You're gorgeous, you really are."

***

Fingers teasing gently up his shaft, one corner of Eskel’s mouth quirked up and he tilted his head at Rhys before letting it rest back on the pillows behind him. “You really think that don’ you?” It was a question but again Eskel didn’t exactly expect an answer. He was more saying it aloud to confirm it to himself.

The room was warm around him and Eskel let the fingers of his other hand sink into the muscles of his inner groin, right where his thigh joined his body. A heavy breath rolled out of him and Eskel shuddered. Drawing his fingers up his cock he swirled his forefinger in the precum gathered at his slit. Rolled it around the crown of his cock and sighed.

Up until that moment Eskel had been slowly approaching his peak, but hearing Rhys call him gorgeous had set something afire in his gut and Eskel, sped up a fraction, watching Rhys through heavy lidded eyes.

“Do you want me to come for you?” Hand wandering back down and up, Eskel teased the head of his cock between his thumb and forefinger again, pressed the thumb of his other hand into his thigh and moaned softly.

***

Rhys considered this for a moment. He was tempted to say no because he wanted to make Eskel come himself. But with a bit of patience, he could do that anyway and get to watch Eskel come now. And he liked the idea of that.

"Please. Let me see." Rhys shifted a bit in his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position that didn't put that much pressure on his own cock, sitting uncomfortably hard in his pants. At least he had opted to wear a wide pair.

"And yes, I really do think you are gorgeous. I can't get enough of watching you, whatever you're doing." Right from the start, he had been fascinated by the way Eskel moved, how very much at home he was in his own body. And passing time had not dampened that fascination one bit.

***

Rubbing his thigh, Eskel sifted his fingers through the hair there, drew them up over his hip. With his hand keeping a maddeningly steady rhythm on his cock Eskel turned his head to the side and pressed his face into the pillow. 

When his fingers found his nipple Eskel moaned quietly again. Rubbed this side of his face against the pillow and shuddered hard. It was overwhelmingly good. To see Rhys like this. Openly enjoying himself and Eskel.

His orgasm snuck up on him. He was floating in a fog of pleasure cresting one wave after the other and Rhys' words reverberated in his mind softly. _Gorgeous_. And then suddenly he was drowning. 

Pulled under by the strong tow of Rhys words and the wanton look on his face, Eskel's cock jerked hard in his hand. The warmth of his own cum on his belly was startling, pulling Eskel from his reverie for a moment.

A few deep breaths later Eskel dared to look right at Rhys. "You should draw _on_ me sometime. I wonder how that'd feel." One hand lazily stroking his cock as it softened, Eskel looked down at himself and laughed. "Gonna hafta clean up now."

***

"Don't you dare move." Rhys' hand still flew over the page to keep what he was seeing there. He had finished the detailed sketch and was busy adding one more in the style of his first one, of Eskel all soft and undone after his orgasm. The unguarded look of pleasure on his face slowly ebbed away and Rhys raced to capture it before it was gone.

Placing one last stroke, Rhys out the chalk aside, wiping the red dust off his fingers on his pants without a thought. He put the sketchbook aside and carried the little table with it and the art supplies closer to the bed so it could be reached from there when they wanted to.

The thunderstorm had turned into a soft spring rain and the light grew less dim. The patter of the rain hitting the windows morphed into the music, soothing and calm. 

Undressing quickly, Rhys grabbed a handful of tissues and came to sit on Eskel again, this time on his thighs. He gently wiped the cum off of him and placed kisses where he had cleaned. Very slowly, he made his way up to Eskel's chest, licking at his nipples before finishing by kissing his lips. 

"Thank you. I really enjoyed that." A quick bite to Eskel's lip, and Rhys sat up again, his weight on Eskel's thighs. Not quite pinning him down, but announcing the possibility of that happening. He picked up the sketchbook and handed it to Eskel.

***

Eskel was taken aback by how relaxed he looked on Rhys’ paper. His whole body appeared loose, intoxicated by the pleasure he gave himself. The look Rhys had captured on his face was so unreserved it was erotic even to Eskel himself. 

The whole drawing was incredibly intimate and clearly arousing. “You made me sexy.”

Flipping the page to the next one, the quick sketch Rhys had been making when he’d been ordered not to move Eskel smirked. Although this one was much hastier, he liked it. The drugged sleepy look of pleasure fit how he’d felt. Sluggishly trying to shake off his orgasm and figure out what to do next.

Rhys took the sketchbook from him when Eskel passed it back. “I didn’t make you anything, I just draw what I see.”

Running his hands further up Rhys’ sides, Eskel pulled him down for a kiss. Murmured against his mouth. “Alright then, I guess ‘m sexy when I think ‘bout you while ‘m touchin’ m’self.” Laying his head back against the pillows Eskel kept a hand behind Rhys’ head, cradling the base of it and brushing his thumb in Rhys’ hair. He watched Rhys’ eyes crinkle with fascination at him.

***

Rhys shifted and pressed one leg between Eskel's, pushing them apart. Leaning forward into a kiss, he knelt between Eskel's legs. Hands on Eskel's hips, he sat up and gave a sudden pull that made Eskel slide down the pile of pillows. Flat on his back and his legs spread around Rhys, Eskel looked seductive to Rhys, all his for the taking.

He let one hand wander up Eskel's chest, rolling first one, then the other nipple between his fingers, gently tugging on them. Bending down, he gave a careful bite to Eskel's neck. It pressed his cock against Eskel's thigh and Rhys moaned quietly. 

Propping himself up on one hand, Rhys caught Eskel's gaze. He caressed his chest and neck with the tip of his braid, letting it barely touch Eskel's skin.

"So tell me, what did you think about?" The braid wandered up Eskel's neck, brushing along his ear and under his chin, down to his chest again.

***

Eskel was sure his eyes had gone wide for a moment at being maneuvered down the bed, but he quickly settled right back into his lazy haze. His orgasm had been strong and left him mellow. That combined with the slow tempo and deep beats of the music Rhys still had playing kept him from becoming overly alert from the short startle.

The rain pattered lightly outside the window and Eskel closed his eyes, following the brush of Rhys’ hair across his skin in his mind as it mapped a journey on his body. When he opened his eyes Rhys was staring right into them. One corner of his mouth turned up.

Rhys’ cock was warm, its velvety skin softly pulsing where it lay against Eskel’s thigh and Eskel swallowed. It was so good to have Rhys’ skin touching his right now. “I jus’ thought about you. Like this. You were drawin’ me an’ you were so sexy. I asked you to come to bed an’ you did. Crawled up between my legs.”

Eskel swallowed thickly, but didn’t look away. “I imagined it was your hands, your mouth on my thighs. You pushed them apart an' kissed them. Sucked at them an' nibbled. All the way up my cock an' my balls-” hesitating Eskel let his eyes fall closed and pushed his face into Rhys’ neck, kissed the soft skin there and whispered against it, “-an' my ass.”

***

Rhys smiled, his nose buried in Eskel's hair, breathing in the scent of juniper. He untangled himself from Eskel and moved down until he was kneeling between his legs again.

"Like this?" Bending down, he placed a kiss on Eskel's thigh, right where Eskel had caressed himself before. Slowly, he worked his way up towards Eskel's groin and then started on the other leg. First only light kisses, and then he used his fangs. Pinpricks on tender skin, never enough to cause pain. 

Eskel squirmed under him and Rhys took one of his hands, intertwined their fingers. Every bite drew a quiet moan from Eskel and when Rhys licked at his balls, he arched up, fingers gripping Rhys' hand.

"Turn over for me?" Rhys thought that Eskel would probably like to hide, not be on display like this. Following Rhys' gentle push, Eskel came to lie on his stomach and Rhys made him open his legs again. 

He took some time caressing the back of Eskel's thighs and his ass, petting and biting at them. It was too intoxicating to see Eskel writhe on the bed before him, face buried in a pillow and hands fisting into the sheets. Pausing for breath, Rhys ran his palm over Eskel's ass, traced a finger over his hole. It pulsed under his touch, and he bent down to lick at it. 

With a strangled cry, Eskel flinched and tensed up. It didn't deter Rhys from spreading Eskel's ass open and licking over his hole again, this time probing into it with the tip of his tongue. It wasn't something he did all that often, and usually he framed it as humiliation for himself or others, but that wasn't because he didn't enjoy it. He did, and taking Eskel apart with it made it even better.

Rhys was careful not to let Eskel feel his tusks and had to hold him down so Eskel didn't suddenly move and hurt himself on them. At a leisurely pace, Rhys licked and fucked his tongue into Eskel as deep as he could.

***

Eskel struggled to control his lungs. They wanted so badly to choke on the air inside them. To seize up or cry out. 

The way Rhys had pinned his ass to the bed gave him the urge to pull on something and the sheets were the only thing at hand. Gripping the sheets tightly Eskel had to remind himself not to _tear_ them. 

Eskel squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face hard into the pillow. Tried to suck air through it. Lifting his head back up, Eskel turned it to the side and moaned low and hungry. "Fuck, Rhys. Please."

There was no stopping or even hesitation from Rhys though and a shudder ran through Eskel. Every pinprick where Rhys fangs had graced his skin was like fire in his mind, tickling at his thighs and his legs.

"Please fuck me." Eskel could think of nothing he wanted more right now than to feel Rhys pushing into him and smothering him with his weight.

***

The sound of Eskel's begging went right to Rhys' groin, and his cock twitched hard at it. There was a short war between his wish to hear more of it and his desire to sink himself into Eskel's ass. While it raged, Rhys kept licking, stretched out behind Eskel. His tongue swiped from behind Eskel's balls to his hole and dipped inside.

Finally, Rhys' lust won and he got up on all fours, grabbed the lube from the nightstand drawer with shaking hands. Slicking himself up, Rhys sat back on his heels to stroke his cock and used his other hand to open Eskel up. One finger sank in easily up to the knuckles of Rhys' hand, and he fucked it in and out of Eskel as slowly as he could. 

No longer held down, Eskel raised his hips to follow him, unwilling to let Rhys draw back. With a low growl, Rhys fell forward on hand and knees again, setting his cock against Eskel's hole. A roll of his hips pushed him inside and he growled again, face hidden between Eskel's shoulder blades. Licking at the skin there, he tasted salt. Eskel was covered in a light sweat.

Rhys thrust forward and buried himself completely, hips pressed against Eskel's ass. He hugged Eskel to himself, arms around his chest. One hand came up to fist into Eskel's hair at the back of his head, keeping him down on his stomach. With his full weight on top of Eskel, Rhys used only his hips to fuck into him, drawing back and pushing back in. 

The rhythm he kept was slow, a pause between every thrust. Each one was as hard as he could make them, slipping almost out and surging back in all in one movement. Eskel's ass tightened around him, trying to keep him in, bucking up when he pulled back. Rhys watched Eskel's face, entranced and ravenous. He didn't allow Eskel to hide any longer.

***

Face scrunched up with the pure overwhelming bliss Rhys was ferrying him through Eskel cried out. Quietly at first, and then louder and louder with every carefully guided plunge of Rhys' cock. Opening him up and rolling over places inside him that set his spine on fire.

Eskel's body thrummed with energy, waiting to burst out. Pinned down as he was, there was only one way for it to go. "Oh, Sweet Melit-"

The words were cut off by another thrust and Eskel had to focus on remembering how to breathe. The pressure building behind his cock snapped like a twig and all of a sudden Eskel felt hot from his toes to his hair. The sensation was chased rapidly by a prickly cold and he was overly aware of his hair standing on end where Rhys held it.

Warmth pooled underneath him and Eskel let out a choked sound, his ass throbbing around Rhys' cock. Tears gathered in his eyes and Eskel fought to breathe.

***

 _Don't bite him-_ Rhys had to remind himself because he wanted to, had his tusks already set against Eskel's shoulder. With Eskel shuddering through his orgasm under him, ass clenching hard around Rhys' cock, Rhys let go of everything else. Took what he needed from Eskel, rutting into him until the tight coil of arousal in his groin let go.

It whipped through his body, drawing a breathless cry from him and taking his strength with it. Rhys collapsed on top of Eskel, hips pressed into his ass, jerking and twitching. He had the energy for a few last thrusts, just to hear Eskel gasp, and then he stilled. 

Uncurling his fingers from Eskel's hair, Rhys smoothed it down tenderly. He rolled off of Eskel to the side and pulled him into an embrace, let him hide against his chest. In his arms, Eskel still was gasping down air in huge breaths.

"Are you alright? Can I do anything?" Rhys spoke softly, petting Eskel's back.

"You're always so much in control. Seeing you give that up for me, I couldn't get enough of it." The memory of Eskel's unguarded pleasure sent a shiver over Rhys.

***

“I _liked_ that you wanted it so much. That’s jus’ it. It was amazin’ to be so wanted, that you wouldn’t let me turn away.” Eskel’s skin prickled at the memory of Rhys’ hand fisted in his hair. “An’ I know I let you see me a lot more than I let anyone else see me. ‘M alright with that. I would’ve said somethin’ if I wasn’t. I like it, tha’s why I let you.”

“Every time you learn somethin’ new that pushes me open you use it an’ I let you. ‘Cause it feels good. ‘S not like I don’ know you're doin’ it even if we never talk ‘bout it. I jus’ need to know that this won’t be like that.” This was too much. Too good. Terrifyingly so. And Eskel was sure he couldn’t handle having Rhys use it against him to work him open like Artrí did a clam. 

“This is somethin’ I need to be able to talk about. Say yes or no to. Tha’s all.” Eskel lifted his head out of the crook of Rhys’ neck finally and kissed Rhys’ lips. Curling one arm under his head on the pillow he watched Rhys. “‘M not upset that it happened. An’ ‘m not sayin’ I won’ say yes to doin’ it again.” 

Darting forward Eskel gave Rhys a quick peck on the forehead. “Once in a while.”

***

"Once in a while." Rhys agreed, and leaned in for another kiss. He already knew he would ask Eskel to do it again. It had been exciting, and Eskel had clearly enjoyed himself. Too much for his taste. Rhys knew better than to push too hard right now. But he would push, eventually.

Eskel's refusal to let himself have pleasure was something Rhys couldn't help but pick at. Carefully and slowly, and with Eskel's permission. It had been an unspoken agreement between them ever since their first meeting. It fed into Rhys' talent and desire for finding out what made people tick. He loved doing it and he had to make sure he didn't do it just for his own enjoyment. But he trusted Eskel to warn him off if he went too far.

"Let's go grab a shower. And something to eat after." Rhys conjured up a bear watcher that wandered around the room, huffing out all the candles, before rolling up under one of the big plants on the windowsill and going to sleep.

***

“Yeah.” Eskel gave a smile, stronger than he felt on the inside. Inside he still felt weak and shaky and he hoped the warm spray of the water would help. “That sounds wonderful ‘cause ‘m a fuckin’ mess.” The laugh that slipped out was still a little nervous sounding but Eskel waved it off.

The acrid smell of the candles being snuffed out hung in the air and Eskel waited for Rhys to get up first. As much as the shower sounded like heaven right now, moving sounded like a lot of work, and he was inclined to let Rhys go first, start the water and let it heat. “You wanna start the shower an’ I’ll be right behind you?”

***

As an answer, Rhys pulled Eskel on top of himself and sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed. "I think I'll take you along. Hold on to me?"

Eskel leaned back to look at him. "I can walk, you didn' break me, y'know?'

Rhys didn't get up and didn't let go of Eskel. "I'm aware. That's not the point. Indulge me?"

***

Eskel watched Rhys' face for a moment. He _could_ walk, he was perfectly able; but he didn't really feel like it either. Wrapping his arms around Rhys' neck Eskel laid his head on Rhys' shoulder.

"Alright. I'll indulge you an' whatever desire this is." Winding his legs around Rhys' waist, Eskel closed his eyes and prayed to Melitele that Rhys didn't drop him.

But he didn't. Rhys stood and took Eskel with him. After a few steps Eskel let out the breath he was unconsciously holding. A short distance later Rhys was letting Eskel get his feet under himself in the shower. The steaming hot water beating down on his shoulders massaged his fears away.

In the same way Eskel enjoyed washing Geralt's hair, Rhys must have enjoyed washing his because he lathered and rinsed it for Eskel. Massaging the suds into Eskel's scalp before tipping his head back to kiss him as the water rushed the soap down the drain.

And it felt _good_. Helped Eskel relax back into his body until he felt like he was whole again. By the time they got out of the shower Eskel was refreshed, and ravenous. "Mmm, alright now 'm hungry. Are we makin' somethin? Or can we have somethin' delivered?"

***

"Geralt told you about takeout pizza, yes?" Rhys finished buttoning up his shirt. "I guess it's late enough for an early lunch. It doesn't need to be pizza, there's a lot more to choose from. But I could go for some pizza right now."

He was honestly curious about what Eskel would choose to put on a pizza. Rhys planned to introduce him to pineapple.

"Pineapple? Do you mean pine cones? You eat those?" Eskel seemed skeptical at the suggestion and Rhys laughed.

"No, it's-- Trust me on this one, okay? You'll like it." With a last kiss, Rhys grabbed Eskel's hand and dragged him in the direction of the living room to order pizza from the comfort of the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Info:  
> rough-ish sex  
> a moment of sub drop


	15. Idle Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"It's weird how that happens. One day you decide to go have some fun with someone, no strings attached, next thing you know your in love with three different people and it just works." Duncan carded his fingers through Eskel's hair, his free hand lying on top of Eskel's on his stomach._  
>  An idle chat between platonic partners. And lots of cuddling.
> 
> Content into in the AN

With Geralt and Rhys at the cinema, Duncan and Eskel had the apartment to themselves. Eskel had opted out of the movies because he didn't want the sensory overload, and while Duncan liked Star Wars just fine, he relished the chance to spend time with Eskel alone.

They had finished a game of Go that Duncan had won, but only just. He had taught Eskel to play and Eskel had taken to it like a fish to water. Duncan could hold his own but he had to work for it and he enjoyed the challenge immensely. They had barely talked, the only sound in the apartment the click of the stones being placed, and the rustle of the vine over the couch fluttering its leaves.

Duncan stretched after putting the game back on the shelf. "I'm going to the roof, pick some strawberries. You wanna come?"

"'M gonna stay here, make some tea. D'you want some?" Eskel was getting comfortable in their kitchen and Duncan liked that he did. That he obviously felt at home with them. He asked for a cup of sencha and headed for the roof.

A short while later, they had settled on the couch with tea and a bowl of wild strawberries. The sweet scent of the berries permeated the room, and each one was a perfect little explosion of taste, announcing that summer was well on its way.

Duncan put his cup down and reached to pet the vine, let it curl one tendril around his hand until it was satisfied and returned to its trellis. 

"Did you enjoy the lighthouse? You look a lot more relaxed and at ease since you came back." Duncan leaned back, one arm propped on the back of the couch, leaning into his hand to look over at Eskel.

***

"I did." Eskel's smile was genuine and immediate.

The sudden urge to go sit with Duncan struck Eskel. When he'd been drunk he'd just pulled Duncan right to him without a thought, but he wondered if Duncan would welcome such casual closeness without the cloud of alcohol.

"Can I come sit on you? It's jus' that I had a—well Rhys called her a partner—once who used to sit on me all the time while we talked. It was never about sex with us, jus' being close. I wanna sit with you like that, tell you about the lighthouse." Eskel liked talking to Duncan. It was comfortable and easy. There was tea and snacks. The parallels to Aldith at the moment were glaring him in the face too hard to ignore.

***

"Sure." Duncan held out his arms to Eskel without any hesitation. He enjoyed their casual intimacy. It was most obvious when they trained together, spared and wrestled, comfortable with being close. But he had also greatly enjoyed cuddling with Eskel when he had come home to find them all drunk on the couch. 

They hadn't had a chance to repeat this yet. With the lighthouse and Exmoor in between this was the first day of all four of them together at the apartment again. It didn't come easily to Duncan to just touch people as part of their normal interactions, like Rhys did. But he had made a resolution to try, he knew it would be welcomed by both Geralt and Eskel.

***

Taking his tea with him Eskel went over and sat sideways across Duncan's lap leaning back into the arm he had on the back of the couch with a pleased noise. He couldn't help but grin. It was comfortable, Duncan had size on him and made a good chair. "It was very peaceful there. Like home but runnin' water an' a stove. Not so many people an' more grass, rocks…" Eskel shrugged, "life?"

A thought occurred to him and Eskel turned to stare right at Duncan with a serious look. "Did you know dirt is alive?" 

When Duncan didn't respond right away Eskel barreled on. "No 'm serious. I got high with Rhys on some stuff that let me see astrally. Deepweed? An' there are tiny living things _everywhere_... in the dirt, in the rain water. I swear if you spit on the ground it'd glow."

Relaxing into Duncan, Eskel put an arm behind Duncan's neck and pulled his legs up next to him, losing some of his initial stiffness. It was so very much like sitting with Aldith, only the positions were reversed. The little vine brushed up against his arm and Eskel raised his hand to it, letting it curl around his fingers until it was content to return to its home.

***

Duncan scooted back until they were nestled into the corner of the couch, with Eskel's back against the arm rest. That left Duncan's hand free to sneak up to Eskel's neck and start petting his hair, winding short strands around his fingers.

"I've seen what lives in dirt and rain water. But not astrally, I can never do that. Deepweed doesn't work for me." He grinned at Eskel. "If you want to, we can show you what all lives in the rainwater barrel up on the roof, Rhys has a microscope - like a very powerful magnifying glass? You'll never look at water the same way again. But we need to wait until Rhys gets back, I don't know where he keeps it."

Leaning forward to pick up a handful of strawberries, Duncan chewed and swallowed and had a moment to think. "I'm glad the lighthouse worked out for you. We need things that we don't all share, that are just between you and Rhys and between Geralt and me. Exmoor was good for us in that way, too."

He paused again, wondering whether to even bring this up. "Did Geralt tell you that we had a fight while you were away? Over something small that really spiraled out of control. We're fine, we talked out. Do you- How do you deal with that self hate he has?"

***

Reclining like this Eskel had to be extremely careful taking a drink of tea before reaching over to set it on the coffee table. So, Duncan had finally been on the receiving end of one of Geralt’s emotional sinkholes. Eskel felt for him, he really did.

Taking two strawberries, Eskel handed one to Duncan. “It usually isn’t something big that sets him off.” The strawberry was perfectly sweet in Eskel’s mouth and he enjoyed it for a moment before continuing. “I don’ let him run away. He’ll try. But honestly? I hafta jus’ ignore everythin’ that he says—what he thinks I think—an’ I show him that I love him.”

Lips pursed, Eskel looked at Duncan. “I hold ‘im, even if he tries to push me away. I tell ‘im that I love ‘im, an’ that ‘m not leavin’, that he’s not whatever he’s sayin’ he is. That what he is thinkin’ isn’t true.” Eskel sighed. “He wasn’t always that bad. Bein’ with someone who was hard to please definitely made it worse, ‘cause Geralt loves to please. When tha’s nearly impossible to do… well, it left a dent.”

“When we first got back together, he freaked out over somethin’ little, an’ I had no idea why. Like you said, it spiraled out of control, an’ fast. I didn’t know what to do. An’ though we sorted it out I felt awful for _days_ after. I felt like it was my fault, or I shoulda known or seen it comin’ but you can’t always. I do what I can to avoid it mostly. ‘M careful with him.” Eskel leaned over and stole another strawberry.

“Sometimes I smile at him instead of laugh when he’s bein’ cute, ‘cause I know he might feel like if I laugh I think he’s bein’ stupid. Which is the furthest thing from the truth. It’s hard to convince him of that though, an’ easier to avoid.” Chewing and swallowing the strawberry Eskel leaned over and rinsed it down with a sip of tea. 

“I can say, he didn’t tell me ‘bout it. So whatever it was you fought ‘bout, it’s not still botherin’ him. Those moods of his pass like a bad thunderstorm. The rest of the time he’s content to jus’ be. An’ you should know, he’s more sure of himself an’ falls into that trap of hatin’ ‘imself less often since he’s been with you. You’re good for ‘im.” Eskel poked Duncan in the chest with a finger. “The important thing is you hafta remember whatever he says he thinks you think, is horseshit.”

Relaxing back Eskel sunk further into the couch and Duncan letting out a huff. Melitele, it was true, Geralt’s emotions were a handful and a half sometimes. When they were good they were _great_ but when they went low they dug out the earth itself.

“You know, I mentioned I used to sit with someone else like this an’ talk? Rhys asked ‘bout her when we were at the lighthouse.” Duncan was still petting Eskel’s hair just barely and Eskel was secretly thrilled at the contact. It was soft and comforting and reminded him of Aldith. “Her name was Aldith. She’s passed away since then, but for years I’d go visit an’ she’d sit on me. I’d tell her ‘bout monsters an’ all my ups and downs with Geralt.”

The memory and the similarity to Duncan telling him about his fight with Geralt brought a smile back to Eskel’s face. “She’d play with my hair, touch the scars on my face, an’ give me advice. In return, I heated her tea, combed her hair an’ let her climb all over me like a cat. Was a lot like this.” Eskel watched Duncan’s face intently and wondered if he wanted to touch his face. “If you want, you can touch my scars. A warm hand actually makes the ache go away a bit.”

***

"I didn't know they still hurt." Duncan brought his hand up slowly, tipped Eskel's head so he could see what he was doing and ran his fingers along the scars. He couldn't help but hold his breath while he did it, exploring very carefully and letting his palm rest against them in the end. Eskel leaned into the touch and Duncan smiled.

"I didn't mind what Geralt said about what I was thinking. I minded that I thought he believed that, and not just in that moment. But we talked our way through this. Honestly, thank fuck it happened then and there. Probably the best place and time for it. You didn't get dragged into this, and Geralt couldn't just run." He shrugged, settled back against the couch.

"I like doing this. Talking with you, sitting like this. Never had anything like it before, really. Without sex, I mean." Duncan let his hand trail down from Eskel's face to his waist to pull him closer, buried the fingers of his other hand in Eskel's hair to scritch at his scalp.

"It's fine if you don't want to talk about that, but how do you deal with living so long? And losing people you care about. Geralt's told me you both might live for another two, three hundred years at least." It had been on Duncan's mind for a while now, he couldn't help but think about that unless something happened, Eskel and Geralt would outlive him and Rhys by a very long time. And were already twice their age, which was _weird_ to think about.

***

"There's magic still embedded in them. I wouldn't say they hurt but they do ache— like a dull background pain. 'S somethin' 'm used to but a warm touch sort of makes it go away? Then I notice the ache is gone, which is lovely." Duncan's hand was scratching at his scalp and Eskel took a moment to just enjoy it.

Aldith wandered into his mind again. The rage and pain he'd felt when he lost her, and how afterward he'd tried to make sure to tell others how he felt in the moment. "I won't say it's easy knowin' I might live a long time. I lost my shit when Aldith died. Murdered a man, in fact, over stupid words. But I've tried to learn since then, to accept that it's better to love for a time an' lose, than to never love at all?"

"I make a point of tellin' others how I feel. Enjoyin' each moment I have." Putting a hand on Duncan's chest Eskel felt the steady thud of his heart. "Havin' Geralt helps. An' Lambert too. A few people who will live long with me."

***

"I'm not-- the best at dealing with losing someone. Not like I haven't had practice. But I get being so angry about it that you kill someone. Been there, done that. Don't regret it either." There were a lot of regrets for Duncan in Hong Kong but killing the Plastic-Faced Man was not one of them. Maybe it should have been but he knew he'd do it again.

"I've been learning to live in the moment and be less afraid of things not lasting. Not to worry about things constantly." He paused for a bit, his thoughts wandering.

"Tell me about Lambert, I'm curious. You think he's gonna come to the wedding? I'd like to meet him, although from everything I've heard I get the impression that five minutes in I'm gonna want to punch him." Duncan was deflecting the conversation from the dark places it had suddenly gone, but he truly was interested in hearing about Lambert.

***

“Mmm. Lambert can come off as an asshole, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. He’s jus’ shit at showin’ it. He’s younger, maybe in his fifties? One of the last witchers to be made, an’ he’s survived a lot of things. A rough life, the Trials, the Path, the loss of someone close— sometimes I think survivin’ while seein’ all those others die made him bitter. Sometimes, I think he was jus’ born angry. Maybe it’s a bit of both.” Eskel smiled at the thought of Lambert meeting Duncan and Rhys. He was sure it would be interesting if nothing else.

“But he’s loyal. He cares ‘bout us. An’ he knows we care ‘bout him even if he’d never admit it. Never once ‘as he hesitated to help us when one of us needed him. There’s no way he’d miss our wedding. He might act like he can’t stand to be there, tell us to get a room, but he wouldn’t miss seein’ us happy together for the world.” After years of being ribbed to keep it down in Kaer Morhen, Eskel was pretty sure that Lambert would, in fact, have a comment or two. 

Trying to explain why it was worth putting up with Lambert’s bullshit anyway, Eskel went on. “Lambert’s biggest demon is Lambert himself. A lot of the bitterness he spits at the world is really anger he feels at himself I think? It doesn’t actually make him a bad person, jus’ difficult to be around sometimes. I think it’s hard for ‘im to see other people havin’ the things he wishes he could’ve had for ‘imself. The things that’ve slipped through his fingers.” Lambert wanted to be happy but Eskel honestly didn’t know if Lambert knew how to be happy.

***

Duncan gave a laugh, not entirely amused. "He sounds like me. Like I used to be, at least. Difficult to be around, angry all the time - I can relate. We'll either hate each other's guts or we'll get along much too well for everyone's taste, I bet. And I can see Rhys being much too interested in him for Lambert's taste. He won't be able to help it. I've seen it. The more prickly people get, the more honestly interested Rhys is. In a very charming way. It's unsettling how well that works. See Exhibit A." Duncan waved at himself.

"It really is hard to see people have what you can't. Especially if you had it, too, and then lost it. I think if Rhys hadn't found me and picked me up, I would be very much like Lambert, bitter and angry. Lashing out at everyone. It's easier if you pretend you don't care. That everyone can just fuck off and leave you alone. And then they do and you are pissed because you're alone and no one cares. Man, I know how that feels." Holding on to Eskel so he didn't slide off his lap, Duncan leaned forward for get the last of the strawberries, offered some to Eskel.

"Can we lie down? You can lie on top of me. If that's not too close for you. You can say if it is, I don't mind." Duncan was a little sleepy, after spending all day yesterday packing, traveling and unpacking he didn't feel the urge to do much. And spending the afternoon stretched out on the couch with Eskel, talking and maybe taking a nap, sounded pretty good to him. Especially if some cuddling was involved.

***

“Yeah, we can lie down. An’ no tha’s not too close.” Eskel smiled, glad that Duncan appeared more than happy to allow him this type of friendly cuddle and snuggle that he’d so enjoyed with Aldith. Some rearranging later they were comfortably stretched out. Duncan had a couch pillow stuffed behind his head, and Eskel laid halfway on top of him. One arm around Duncan’s stomach, and a leg thrown over him, he used Duncan's chest as his own pillow. 

“‘M pretty sure you’re right, Rhys is gonna take an uncomfortable interest in Lambert. Well, uncomfortable for Lambert at least. He’s got somethin’ goin’ on with a sorceress now, Keira Metz, he jus’ needs to allow himself to enjoy it again. Maybe she’ll whittle away at him, like Rhys did at you.” Eskel laughed at the idea. It wasn’t like Keira didn’t have the time, none of them were going anywhere any time soon. She could spend decades breaking down Lambert's defenses.

“It’s funny. What I have with you is startin’ to become a lot like what my ‘friendship’ with Aldith was like. But I’ve always considered you more of a partner, ‘cause you’re Rhys’ husband an’ we’re both with Geralt, an’ ‘m with Rhys. We’re all partners. It jus’ fits. But I never considered Aldith a partner until Rhys pointed it out when we were talkin’ at the lighthouse.” Eskel had spent a good deal of time pondering this since he’d talked about it that day with Rhys. 

Before Eskel met the orks and slid into his relationship with them he was monogamous, he had been sure. Now he was not so sure. “Geralt always had other lovers, some of them more partners an’ some of them more flings. But I always thought I was monogamous. There was always Aldith though, an’ Geralt knew ‘bout her. It wasn’t ‘bout sex, like I said ‘cause she was a woman an’ that’s not my thing, but she was incredibly important to me. Now ‘m not so sure, maybe I always leaned a little this way an’ never knew.”

A sleepy sigh cascaded out of Eskel. “You’re important to me too. Jus’ like Rhys and Geralt. Jus’ ‘cause I don’ wann fuck you doesn’t mean I don’t care a lot ‘bout you.”

***

"It's weird how that happens. One day you decide to go have some fun with someone, no strings attached, next thing you know your in love with three different people and it just works." Duncan carded his fingers through Eskel's hair, his free hand lying on top of Eskel's on his stomach.

"Never gave much thought to whether I was monogamous. Didn't have a reason to. And I didn't worry much about it when you two happened. It just felt right." He tapped a slow rhythm on Eskel's hand, a little lost in thought.

"So you want the wedding to be here? Do you want someone to officiate it? Rhys and I almost didn't, but in the end we asked an old friend of Rhys to do it. It might not have been legal, but it sure felt official when he did it." Duncan smiled at the memory.

***

The slow rise and fall of Duncan’s chest under him had been lulling Eskel to sleep, but being asked about the wedding perked him up a little. Enough that he could answer coherently at least. “Definitely here. I want it to be as real as it can be, an’ Geralt is thrilled at that idea. It’ll be tricky bringing our friends an’ family here, but we only have a few. Ciri, Lambert, Regis. The bard and his girl. No one who will be too shocked at having to step through a portal.”

“If we keep it in Wales, they don’t even have to see what this world is really like. No cars in the woods.” Eskel smirked to himself at his and Geralt’s plan to keep the majority of this world under wraps from their guests. “We can set up tents, an’ tables, string lanterns between trees, maybe a bonfire or two. It’ll look like home. Have Rhys offiate. We still need to ask him, but I can’t imagine he’d turn down the chance.”

“Then we’ll register it properly. Help build up our aliases here and make it legal.” The image of Artrí wandering through the site and plundering the buffet table made Eskel huff out a laugh. “Even Artrí can come.”

“Most of the guests will jus’ think we’ve taken them into a mage’s pocket dimension. It explains time not passin’, the things that seem fantastical, why we’d wanna do it there— it’s safer. They don’ need to know it’s a completely different world. Ciri will know though, ‘cause she can jus’ come here on her own. Blink and she’s in your living room.”

***

Duncan gave a quiet laugh. "I can't imagine Rhys ever saying no to this. He will enjoy that so much, he's already so excited for the wedding. "

"I'm not sure they won't pick up on this being a wholly different world anyway. But as long as no one crashes the wedding with their drone or car, we should be fine. And mostly people seem to accept that Rhys and I are just remnant of the orks that used to live in your world." 

"I wonder if there really _are_ some orks left, somewhere. I'd like to meet them. Not on the Continent, probably. It's not a good place for non-humans. Every time I go there, it's like I see something winding down and another thing begin. I wonder where it'll be in a hundred years." It really wasn't like Duncan to be so melancholic, and he had no idea where this had come from. But it was true, the Continent had the distinct feel of a world undergoing a major change. Not a catastrophe, but something that demanded people adapt. And if they didn't, they would vanish, one way or the other.

***

"Mmm. Yeah. Geralt thinks Corvo is retirement an' he wonders why I won't retire with him. When I retire I don' want it to be to a Continent in turmoil. Fuck Beauclair an' their knights an' their grapes. I want Ciri to come to take us somewhere truly peaceful." Eskel thought for a bit about how peace never lasts.

"An' when that world starts fuckin' it up, Ciri can come get us and take us to a new peaceful time or place or whatever." Words groggy with sleep Eskel waved his hand around. "An' Geralt, I hope he's as excited to learn about each new one as he is to learn about yours. I'll deal with the change. Small price to pay for hundreds of years of peaceful retirement."

Eskel's hand landed flat on Duncan's face, and he pulled down the length of it gently. "Sleep now. 'M tired."

***

Duncan took his hand and placed a quick kiss to the palm of it without thinking much about it. "Good plan. Your retirement, and a nap now."

He drifted a little, with Eskel's comforting weight on top of him. It lasted until Eskel slipped off of him to the side, almost pushing Duncan off the couch. 

"I'll be right back." Duncan got up, petting Eskel to ensure him that things were fine. Eskel rolled over and watched as Duncan pushed the couch segments together, locking them in place so they would stay put. He claimed space for himself even before Duncan was done, and pulled him close the second Duncan came to lie down again.

This time, sleep pulled Duncan under right away.

***

The apartment was quiet when Rhys opened the door. He toed off his shoes in the hall and padded into the living room, followed by Geralt. Their movie marathon had been fun, but now Rhys was fine with some peace and quiet.

He almost squealed when he found Duncan and Eskel on the couch, nestled into each other. They were awake, but barely, blinking up at Rhys and Geralt.

Rhys didn't hesitate and crawled up on the couch, squeezing between them. Duncan made room and Rhys grinned, happy at being sandwiched in the middle. Eskel and Duncan were sleep-warm and drowsy. Rhys turned on his back and pulled Eskel to himself, got hugged by Duncan who placed a lazy kiss on his neck.

***

Seeing Eskel cuddled up with Duncan on the couch brought a huge grin to Geralt’s face. This was everything he sought in life. Right here, in this room. Eskel, forever his, content with the people who made him complete. Rhys had stolen the sweet spot in the middle this time and Geralt’s eyes crinkled with happiness at seeing him sink in between Eskel and Duncan.

Following Rhys, Geralt crawled onto the couch and pressed himself up to Eskel’s back. Throwing a leg over as far as he could, Geralt wound his arm around Eskel, worming it in between him and Rhys. Pulling himself tight against Eskel and kissing Eskel’s shoulder through his shirt Geralt still couldn’t wipe the grin off his face.

Eskel’s breathing was sleepy-slow in his arm and Geralt curled his other arm under his head for a pillow. Listened to the swish and thrum of four hearts, the sigh of four people breathing together. The melody of it relaxing him, coaxing him into a sleep he hadn’t needed but craved now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content info:  
> discussion of loss/death  
> discussion of poly relationships


	16. Leash and Pins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Duncan was waiting for him in the hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and Geralt stopped for a moment just to process the sight. For once Duncan was wearing leather pants like himself. The sleek black leather hugged his muscular legs in a way that made Geralt want to cancel their plans and clear the bedroom for a few hours. To go with it Duncan had put on a white button down, long sleeves rolled partially up, accentuating his thick forearms._  
>  _Suddenly Geralt wasn’t sure if they would make it to this club at all. “Hello.” The word fell out of Geralt’s mouth soft and sweet. He smiled at Duncan awestruck, boots dangling from his hand._  
>  A visit to a kink club.
> 
> Content into in the AN

Geralt stood in the bathroom, shirtless in front of the mirror. The foam of Eskel’s shaving soap spattered his chest as he worked to clear the evening shadow from his face. Eskel was busy helping clear the table and do the dishes. 

Dinner had been a delicious soup of salted bacon broth, with a turnip-like vegetable Rhys had called a swede, carrots, leeks, and oatmeal dumplings. Cawl, apparently, was a Welsh dish, and Rhys had served it with a plate of bread and cheese after letting it simmer on the stove all day. It had reminded Geralt of the Continent and he thought surely Marlene could master it.

Now Geralt was hard at work trying to make himself look his best though. He wished Eskel would hurry up with dishes because shaving was not something he enjoyed and he wanted Eskel to touch up his undercut. Duncan had promised to take him out to a club tonight and Geralt was more excited about it than he had a right to be.

From what he understood it was some kind of sex club. Not quite like a brothel in that no money was changing hands and the people there weren’t actually even all having sex, maybe some were though? It was a place where they would fit in though, Duncan had said, and Geralt believed him wholeheartedly. It was a place for people who liked the kind of sex they liked.

It was the idea of that, in public, that really had Geralt wound up so much he had to be careful not to cut himself on the razor. There was a soft laugh from the door. Geralt looked up to see Eskel.

“Need some help?” Eskel walked up to him with a smirk and took the razor away.

“Gods, yes. Please.” Geralt laughed at himself. One look in the mirror revealed the mess he’d made of himself. But Eskel was quick and efficient. Swirling the brush in his soap and reapplying it to Geralt’s face. “Short hairs on my head too please?” Geralt politely asked, getting a pleasant huff from Eskel. 

Soon soap was dampening his undercut too, and Eskel was gliding the razor over his skin, rinsing soap and hair away in the sink with ease. When he was done he wrapped an arm around Geralt from behind and looked at him in the mirror. Tipped his chin over to kiss his cheek. “Have fun tonight.”

Geralt almost jumped at the pat on his ass Eskel gave him before turning to run a tub for himself. “‘M gonna enjoy a quiet night with Rhys.”

“I love you.” Geralt grinned at Eskel and padded out into the bedroom to locate a shirt. The one he chose was deep sapphire blue, like all the shirts Rhys had bought him it fit tightly, hugging his muscles and lean waist. The short sleeves had horizontal pleats that had been stitched in to create a nice lined effect extending all the way to the collar. Geralt left it untucked and padded out to fetch his boots.

Duncan was waiting for him in the hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and Geralt stopped for a moment just to process the sight. For once Duncan was wearing leather pants like himself. The sleek black leather hugged his muscular legs in a way that made Geralt want to cancel their plans and clear the bedroom for a few hours. To go with it Duncan had put on a white button down, long sleeves rolled partially up, accentuating his thick forearms.

Suddenly Geralt wasn’t sure if they would make it to this club at all. “Hello.” The word fell out of Geralt’s mouth soft and sweet. He smiled at Duncan awestruck, boots dangling from his hand.

***

Geralt's reaction made Duncan smile. Having Geralt stare this openly was gratifying. He had to admit that Geralt himself was quite a sight, even though he didn't dress that differently from what he normally wore. But that shirt - Rhys had known exactly what he was doing when he picked it out.

Taking a step forward, Duncan pulled Geralt into a kiss. "Hello there." 

Behind them, Rhys came out of his room and shamelessly grabbed Duncan's ass, making him jump. "Enjoy yourselves. I'm sure people will enjoy _you_ because you two look amazing together."

Duncan reached out and stopped Rhys with a grab to his braid, kissed him before letting him go. Rhys smiled and kissed Geralt as well before vanishing into the bathroom.

"Ready to go?" Duncan picked up a backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He wasn't sure whether they would want to play, but he had prepared if they did, packing a couple of things.

***

Mouth dry, Geralt leaned into Duncan nodding softly against his shoulder. Geralt drew a deep breath in through his nose seeking the clean scent of Duncan's skin.

"Yeah." After a long moment Geralt finally moved to put his boots on.

The club surprised Geralt. There was nothing flashy about it. At least outside. The door was unassuming metal in the brick of yet another building like so much of London Geralt had grown used to seeing. If he had to guess he might have thought it was a warehouse.

Inside was a whole different world though. Geralt was immediately glad he'd worn his earbuds. Even with them he could feel a thumping beat of music. The light was low and had a deep hue to it.

There were people all about, some chatting casually, some clearly engaged in play with each other and Geralt had a sudden need to be right at Duncan's side. Not just holding his hand as he had been, but pressed up along his side where everyone would know he wasn't available.

***

Duncan scanned the room, noting exits and hiding places by habit. He couldn't shake it, especially not in a new location with so many nooks and crannies. There were niches and alcoves for people to play in, some with privacy, some less so. From the club's Matrix presence he knew that there were more playrooms downstairs, and a dance floor upstairs. 

But for now he was more interested in just making a circuit of the room, just taking it all in. And maybe a stop at the bar for a drink. 

Geralt had moved closer, clung to his side. Duncan stopped in a corner and tipped Geralt's head up with two fingers under his chin. He placed a kiss on Geralt's lips. "Are you okay? It can be a bit much. And I don't mean the noise and stuff."

People were watching them with interest. Rhys had been right, they made a striking pair even among this crowd. They were far from the only gay couple here, and Duncan far from the only ork. But together, they did stand out. Duncan was a semi-regular, but not in Geralt's company. All of this together drew casual interest.

***

"I'm good." Geralt stayed closely leaned against Duncan, enjoying the gentle warmth radiating off of him. 

"I'll always be good when I'm with you." Glancing up at Duncan from where he'd laid his head on Duncan's shoulder Geralt flashed him a broad smile, teeth dazzling white.

Geralt let Duncan guide him, away from the periphery towards the center. His heart picking up in his chest.

***

Reassured by Geralt, Duncan got them drinks at the bar and then picked a very plushy couch set a little in the background for them to sit. It didn't put them on display too much, but afforded them a good view of things. Of the people coming and going, and of some of the play areas. 

Everyone here was out to see and be seen, and everyone who played here wanted an audience. A troll passed them, being led along on a leash by his human mistress. Geralt watched with interest over his drink, and Duncan ran a hand up his neck, scritching at the undercut.

"Would you enjoy a collar? I don't have a real one, but Rhys has taught me how to make a rope one?" Duncan had thought about getting a collar, including one in their play, but hadn't been sure Geralt would want it.

"Please. I'd like that!" Geralt's excitement was palpable, he practically vibrated with energy. 

Duncan grabbed a coil of rope from the backpack and did some quick measuring before starting to braid the rope the way Rhys had shown him. He had practiced this and it didn't take him long to finish. The rope was soft and a shade of blue only a little lighter than Geralt's shirt.

Fitting it around Geralt's neck, Duncan pulled the strands of rope through the loop on one end. The actual collar sat loosely enough not to choke and to move easily, but firm enough to make Geralt feel a little pressure. It was too thick for the loop to slip over it even if Duncan gave a tug on the leash he now had.

Sitting back into the corner of the couch, Duncan took a moment to admire his work. He put one leg up so Geralt could lean into him and pulled the leash taut. "It looks good on you. Come here."

***

Crawling over to Duncan, Geralt suddenly felt flush. The rope running from his neck to Duncan's hand didn't seem like it should mean so much but seeing it made Geralt's heart race. The urge to lay down in Duncan's lap overcame Geralt and he had to shove it down hard.

Instead Geralt curled his legs up under himself, kneeling in between Duncan's on the couch and leaned against his chest. Hands on his thighs Geralt knew he looked docile for a man his size, but next to Duncan he felt small. And it was a feeling he relished.

The pull of the leash had reminded Geralt of the way Duncan sometimes used the nipple clamps to move him around or to make him move faster. It also was a bold physical thread linking him to Duncan. More than holding hands or kissing, it showed everyone here he belonged to Duncan. That Duncan _owned_ him.

Geralt's cock was getting stiff in his leather pants but he tried not to squirm. Head still resting sideways on Duncan's chest he whispered where only Duncan could hear. "Thank you, for showing everyone I belong to you, Sir. I _love_ being yours."

***

Duncan curled a hand around the back of Geralt's neck, running his thumb over the smooth undercut. He was thrilled to see how much this excited Geralt. The rope leash was heavy in his hand, heavier than it had any right to be. It swung very slightly when Geralt shifted to get comfortable, even when he took a deep breath, transferring the slightest move to Duncan.

It was completely new to him. He had never done this with Rhys, or anyone else. And he couldn't think of anyone with whom he wanted to do this more than with Geralt. 

"I was thinking, do you want to have a permanent collar? We could go pick one out. Or have it made, at Thekla's. It's a good way to signal that one of us wants to play, too." Duncan traced a finger over the braided rope, down the leash and to Geralt's chest. He drew lazy circles there, skirting around Geralt's nipples.

A yelp of pain made him look up. Across the room, an ork woman was getting flogged, red stripes blooming up across her broad back. It had drawn a small crowd of spectators, all standing at a respectful distance. She was tied with her hands above her head, her long braid incorporated in the bindings.

***

Geralt nodded his head softly. He liked the idea of having this feeling each time he played with Duncan. Of feeling owned by someone who would take care of him. The slow touch of Duncan's fingers through his shirt only solidified it for him.

Drifting in the feeling Geralt was startled by a cry. One hand flew to Duncan's shoulder and the other squeezed the wrist that held his leash. Geralt whined and brought both hands to Duncan's chest. 

Taking several deep breaths to settle himself Geralt licked his lips. Rose up on his knees to speak in Duncan's ear. "I'm sorry for grabbing you, Sir. I'm not good with my hands. Can you help me? Did you bring the handcuffs? If you did I'd like them please."

***

"Mmh, I might test out how good you are with your hands, but not tonight." Duncan ran both hands down Geralt's back. Without looking, he dug in the backpack for the cuffs and located them by touch. He grasped Geralt's wrists and pulled his arms on his back, hugging him close. "Like this okay?"

When Geralt nodded, Duncan let the handcuffs ratchet close around his wrists. Duncan gave a bite to the side of his neck at the same time. "Let's take a walk."

With the leash wound around his hand, Duncan kept a step in front of Geralt. He paid attention to not walking too fast, and to navigate the crowd carefully so Geralt wouldn't stumble or get run into. Excitement prickled in his stomach at showing Geralt off like this, and he was very aware of the looks they got. 

Duncan walked them past a few couples and groups who were playing, through the much quieter chill out zone at the back of the club where people lounged on couches and beanbags, cuddling and talking. He chose a spot there to lean against the wall and gently pull Geralt towards himself with the leash until Geralt was right in front of him. Propping one leg up, Duncan pushed his thigh between Geralt's.

"Would you like to play here? Nothing serious. Some pain, maybe take your shirt off but nothing more? We can have privacy downstairs, if you want." Pushing up, Duncan squeezed Geralt's balls with his thigh until Geralt was standing on tiptoes.

***

Biting his lip to contain the whine that wanted to escape Geralt balanced carefully over Duncan's thigh. His cock was hard and the pressure on his balls did nothing to diminish it. "Yes Sir."

Geralt had kept his head up walking through the crowd. Had seen all the eyes on them, the appreciative looks and smiles. It thrilled him in a way he hadn't known it would. These were strangers after all.

Clearing his throat Geralt decided to clarify a bit. "I'd enjoy having you show me off to everyone I think? I like the way they look at us. You can take my shirt off but my boxers need to stay on. Let them see how much I like the way you own my body, Sir." Geralt really wanted to be able to lean into Duncan right now. To rub his body on Duncan's like a touch starved alley cat.

The thigh pressing into his balls prevented him from doing it with toppling himself though. Blinking slowly Geralt stared right at Duncan.

***

Holding Geralt's hips, Duncan let him down again and pulled him close, hands sliding around to his ass. "Turn around then."

When Geralt had his back turned, Duncan opened the handcuffs and pulled Geralt's shirt over his head. With the handcuffs back in place, Duncan folded the shirt and stored it in the backpack, taking out the clamps. 

He stepped in front of Geralt, pinching his nipples until they were hard and attaching the clamps to them, a chain connecting them. The leash was hanging from Geralt's collar behind the chain, making the chain move when Duncan picked it up again. 

Keeping the leash short enough that it would keep jostling the clamps, Duncan led Geralt back towards the main room. He found them somewhere not very crowded and tethered Geralt to a ring in the wall, leaving him some room to move around.

"I know you will make me proud." Duncan cupped Geralt's face and kissed him deeply. He picked up the chain between the clamps and and pulled it up, making Geralt moan. "Hold it in your mouth. Don't drop it."

With Geralt effectively gagged, Duncan took a leather pouch out of the backpack, small enough that he could hold it in one hand. Inside were clothespins, and he started attaching them to Geralt. One line of them down one flank, one more up the other. Duncan stepped back and waited a bit for the pain to set in.

Geralt raised his head to look at him, pulled hard on the clamps, and dropped his head again. The clamps turned his skin even whiter where they bit into it, islands in the appealing flush that spread over Geralt's whole upper body.

Running a palm over the clamps on each flank, Duncan picked up some more. These went on Geralt's chest, moving ever closer towards his already tortured nipples. In between placing them, Duncan reached down to grope Geralt's cock through his pants, squeezing and rubbing.

***

Pulling rough breaths through his nose Geralt could smell his own arousal. He wanted to whine at the way Duncan kept grabbing his cock, teasing it through his leather pants, but he ran his tongue along the chain in his mouth instead. The metal had warmed quickly, and he focused on how it felt heavy on his tongue, wanting to be good. Not to disappoint Duncan in front of all these people. A good whore would take his pain quietly.

The clothespins bit into Geralt’s sides, his chest. Lifting his head again Geralt’s heart thumped in his ears, the painful pull tightening the clamps on his nipples and forcing a muted groan from behind closed lips. Looking at Duncan from under his eyelashes Geralt lowered his head again. The pain on his sides was a dull memory in comparison to the fire Duncan had created across his nipples and chest.

It only made Geralt’s cock ache more and he wondered in his mind why the two were so mixed up for him. But then the sounds of others enjoying their own pain filtered softly in, quieted from the cacophony of noises by his earbuds and Geralt decided it didn’t matter. Here at least, he was one of many, if he stood out it would be because he was so good at enduring it. The thought of that, of being able to take what Duncan gave him and remain aroused thrilled Geralt.

Geralt swallowed and the collar hugged his neck thickly for a moment. Geralt wished Duncan’s hands weren’t busy, that he would hold the leash again, give it a tug, let him feel exactly how much Duncan owned him. Lost in his mind, the buzz of pain and arousal taking away the world around him Geralt drifted in his own thoughts for a bit. Duncan had offered to take him to pick out a real collar, or have one made. Geralt was sure after this that he wanted to talk to Duncan about doing that.

***

With the last clothespins attached to Geralt's nipples on either side of the clamps, Duncan took a step back. Geralt kept his head bowed and was breathing hard through his nose. The clothespins moved slightly with every breath he took, tugging on the skin between them. 

Duncan gave Geralt a moment to savor the pain before he stepped behind him. Tipping his head back, Duncan buried his face against Geralt's neck for a kiss and a bite. He let Geralt bow his head again and slid his hands around his waist, dragging a finger along the clothes pins.

"You're taking this well, I'm proud of you." Removing one clothespin from both of Geralt's flanks, Duncan waited a bit, then plucked off two more. He dropped them into the pouch and reached around to stroke Geralt's cock through his leather pants. Kept Geralt on a seesaw of pleasure and pain.

They had gathered a small audience, and Duncan played to them, showing Geralt off. Not too obviously, but standing behind Geralt he had made sure everyone could see. But it also let him hug Geralt to himself to reassure him and keep him grounded by touch.

***

Geralt wasn’t really sure what was better, the pinching pains and hot liquid need swirling in his stomach, leaching down to his cock, or hearing Duncan praise him so openly in front of these people who were watching him. It made him lightheaded in the best way. Swaying a little on his feet Geralt sucked on the chain in his mouth and hummed at Duncan. A pleasant, satisfied sound.

Every huff of air he drew in moved the skin on his torso and gave him a chill, goose bumps raising at the pain. Geralt looked at the people watching him from under his lashes. Their eyes were ravenous and it made his cock jerk under Duncan’s palm. He was sure Duncan felt it even though the leather.

Leaning back a little Geralt let Duncan feel him slink into his embrace. He wanted to be held, to have Duncan show his ownership, and Duncan’s arm squeezed around him perfectly, just what he needed. Then Duncan grasped several clothespins from his side at once, opened them up and the blood rushed back into Geralt’s skin drawing a painful moan from him around the chain. 

Geralt panted through the pain and looked up at their little audience, blinking away a few tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes. Fuck, it felt good. For a second Geralt wondered how he would stand not getting fucked when this was done.

***

"You like having them watch." Duncan pitched his voice low enough that he was sure only Geralt would hear it. He gave an hard squeeze to Geralt's cock. "You don't need to say anything. Everyone can see it. I like that."

The last clothespins were gone from Geralt's sides and Duncan ran his palms over the skin there, relishing how hot it was and how his touch made Geralt squirm. He flicked a finger against the clamps and gave a tug on the chain. "Let me have it."

Geralt obediently let go and yelped in pain when Duncan didn't catch the chain, let it drop heavily against Geralt's chest. It pulled on the clamps and jostled the clothespins next to them. Duncan hugged Geralt to himself while he rode out of pain, and couldn't help but grind his cock against Geralt's shackled hands. 

What he would have _liked_ to do now was turn Geralt around and fuck him up against the wall, but that wasn't in the cards. Not here. So he took a deep breath and placed a kiss on Geralt's neck, letting go of him.

Duncan took the rope leash and wound it into a coil, hung it on the chain as an improvised weight. Geralt flinched, making all the clothespins clatter. With quick movements, Duncan took off all of them and then stepped to the side to watch while the pain sunk its teeth into Geralt.

He gave it a few seconds before coming to hug Geralt from behind again, slipping his arms under Geralt's and around his stomach. "Do you want me to take off the clamps?"

At a nod, he grasped the chain and pulled.

***

Geralt’s roar of agony was suppressed by the way he clenched his jaw and clamped his lips closed. Swaying on his feet Geralt moaned softly at Duncan’s hand rubbing over his cock, trapped in his leather pants— aching and staining his boxers he was sure. The urge to breath returned to Geralt and he hadn’t even known he was holding the air in his lungs hostage. Hadn’t realized he’d forgotten to open his eyes after blinking away the tears this time.

Opening his eyes Geralt looked at the small crowd hazily. They were smiling at Duncan now. Impressed with him, and how well he’d handled Geralt maybe? He wasn’t sure and he couldn’t think well enough to figure it out. Body humming with unfulfilled desires, buzzing with a flood of natural instinct and emotions meant to keep him fighting through the pain of contracts gone bad, so artfully manipulated instead by Duncan.

Shifting slightly on his feet Geralt tried to stay steady but it was hard. Admitting defeat he leaned into Duncan. “Thank you, Sir.” There was no denying he was going to be tortuously aroused for a while now. He wanted Duncan to hold him, pet him. Fuck him, but that wasn’t going to happen. Geralt refused to whine about that yet though, not in front of everyone.

***

Duncan dropped the clamps into the pouch and slung both arms around Geralt, turning him to face away from their little audience. He tipped Geralt's head up into a kiss.

"You did good, I'm proud of you. Let's go find a quiet place for us." Picking up the backpack, Duncan led Geralt on a short leash, keeping him close. The group around them broke up, people talking among themselves or strolling away. Duncan exchanged a smile with a few of them, but didn't stop. 

They did find a squishy couch, just big enough for the two of them and Duncan flopped down on it. He squirmed a bit to find a moderately comfortable position that did not put too much pressure on his hard cock, but there wasn't one. Duncan gave up and tugged on the leash, pulling Geralt on his lap. 

With Geralt straddling him, it was impossible to miss that they both were achingly hard, and Duncan had half a mind to suggest them getting a room somewhere. But he told himself that they could wait until tomorrow. Rhys had said something about taking Eskel to the zoo. Duncan knew exactly what he and Geralt would do once Eskel and Rhys were out of earshot.

He unlocked the handcuffs and pulled Geralt close. Palms placed flat on Geralt's back, Duncan caressed him slowly, running his hands up and down his spine and over his sides. 

"People probably think that you are into some really heavy stuff, with all the scars." Tracing one of them, Duncan gave a soft laugh.

***

The sound Geralt made might have been a whimper, or it might have been a whine, even he wasn’t sure. With his hands free he curled them around Duncan’s broad shoulders and squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position. Every movement only sent sparks of arousal along his spine though, his cock pressing against Duncan’s in a magnificent way, yet completely unsatisfying.

“Gods, please don’t remind me how much I want you to cut me when all I want is for you to fuck me. The two are already completely mixed up in my head.” Geralt grunted when his squirming jostled their cocks a little too much and Duncan’s arms turned firm, holding him down to Duncan’s chest for a short moment. Sweet relief from the desire to move.

“That was… it really turned me on to perform with you. Have you show me off like that to anyone who chose to watch.” Geralt was still breathing fairly fast into Duncan’s neck, riding high on the rush of being watched. “I never thought anyone would be turned on by how I enjoy pain, then I met you and Rhys. To have you show me off to all these people who were _impressed_ by it, that was something else.”

When Duncan’s hold loosened Geralt wiggled a leg between Duncan's, pushing his stiff cock into Duncan’s thigh with a heavy sigh. “Why can’t we just fuck? Surely there is somewhere private enough here?” Geralt already knew the answer. That there wasn’t really. That Eskel and Rhys were home at the apartment enjoying a hot bath and probably talking about plants. The sound he made at that thought was most definitely a whine.

***

Duncan pulled Geralt against himself with one arm and gripped his wrists with his free hand, forcing him to hold still and stop _wriggling_. It drove Duncan crazy, the way Geralt kept nudging his cock, teasing him without even trying.

"We could. It's not like people don't do that here, mostly downstairs. There's a lot more privacy there. But I don't think I really want to. I think I want to sit here for a bit and watch people, maybe have you get us another drink once your pants fit properly again. And then we'll use the time when Rhys and Eskel are at the zoo tomorrow." Duncan took a deep breath and tried to not think about how long it was until then.

"I'm glad this worked for you, because it sure as hell did things for me. I don't really like Rhys showing me off like that, but I like doing it to you. A lot." Burying his nose in Geralt's hair, Duncan closed his eyes for a moment.

***

“I don’t wanna fuck _here_.” Geralt huffed, settling into Duncan’s hold. It helped. A lot actually. 

Turning his head to the side Geralt rubbed his cheek on Duncan’s shoulder and let out a low sigh. Soft and giving in. With Duncan holding his wrists like this and holding him steady he didn’t have the same urge to move so much. Being able to breathe in and breathe out, to focus on the simplicity of it, calmed Geralt.

From his spot on Duncan's lap, Geralt looked out over the floor, watching the scenes play out. Body still softly buzzing with a rush of his own. There was a man with his cock and balls secured to a pillory. He looked far too cheeky as he took a light spanking from his mistress, and Geralt smirked when his face fell at the first swishing sound of the cane in the air. She tested it out a few times before landing a well placed strike that brought a loud shout.

It reminded Geralt that he wanted to ask Duncan when they could play with Rhys and his cane sometime. It didn’t seem like something they would do here in London, maybe at Corvo or in Novigrad. Geralt was excited about it. Both the cane, and the chance to let Rhys hurt him again.

Further around the room there was a woman worshiping a man in some strange smooth material Geralt didn’t recognize, it wasn’t leather though. It was brightly colored red and shone in the dimmed lights in a way he was sure wasn’t just his ability to see better than others in here. 

A couple of men however were wearing more leather than Duncan and him combined. With buckles and rings, and _zippers_. One had a harness on his otherwise bare chest, and the other—the one who was standing up—wore a vest and a leather hat. He was having his boots licked by the one in the harness. And while Geralt found that to be a bit strange for his taste he did like the zippers, they reminded him of the zippered pockets on Eskel’s leather pants here. 

His mind conjured up an image of Eskel in those with a harness or vest on top. Vaguely he wondered if Eskel would be willing to indulge him in that fantasy. Maybe he would ask.

Eventually Geralt’s pants were fitting more comfortably and Duncan must have sensed him relaxing because he had loosened his grip on Geralt’s wrists. One hand idly slipped under the side of Duncan’s shirt to rub over the skin there. “You still want me to go get us another drink? You can’t let me out of your sight though.”

***

"I won't. You can go there," Duncan pointed across the room to the bar, "and I can watch you all the way. Get me a coke, please." He didn't yet let go of Geralt's wrists. "Do you want your shirt back?"

"Please. Can the collar and leash stay, please?" Geralt looked up at him from under his lashes. His soft tone and the whole submissive pose went right into Duncan's cock and he was glad he could stay put.

With Geralt fully dressed again, Duncan coiled the leash and tied it to a belt loop so it didn't get tangled. He sent Geralt on his way with a kiss and a gentle pat to the ass.

Leaning back, he watched as Geralt weaved between the people, heading straight for the bar. He was visibly more relaxed than when they had arrived here but still stepped carefully. On the way, a scene with someone getting spanked with a leather belt caught his attention and he came to a standstill. Duncan sat up straight - Geralt's posture radiated tension and fascination in equal parts. 

But he moved on and Duncan relaxed again, made a note of maybe asking him about it later. He smiled to himself when Geralt reached the bar and the people there automatically made room for him. Geralt, without even trying and probably without even feeling like it right now, had an air of authority and enough charisma radiating off of him that people reacted to him. He definitely did not have to try and catch the bartender's eye, she caught his instead.

Duncan's smile got wider when he saw an ork woman come to stand next to Geralt. She was dressed in latex, black clothes hugging her figure. It contrasted with the rainbow of her hair, revealed by the blond top layer tied into a ponytail. Her interest clearly was not in drinks.

***

The woman tending the bar was tall with one side of her hair braided back to show off her pointed ear, the piercings there reflecting in the light. She was much much more slender than any ork Geralt had seen though and he guessed she must be an elf. “Can I have a Coke and a bottle of water, please?” Geralt flashed her a smile and pulled out his commlink to transfer the payment.

“Of course you can sugar.” She busied herself getting his drinks, and Geralt stifled the urge to laugh at the name.

Looking around while he waited Geralt noticed an ork woman had sidled up next to him in line. Except she was looking right at him, eye level, her rainbow hair a myriad of colors. He smiled shyly and looked back for the bartender to find his drinks.

“Oh don’t be shy! I just wanna talk, get to know what you like, see if we match up. You are awfully handsome. That nice white hair, those kitty eye implants, and such a gorgeous smile.” She fluffed her blond ponytail. “I like good hair. So what do you go by?”

The outspoken friendliness and the frank propositioning stunned Geralt. For a few heartbeats he didn’t know what to say, he didn’t want to give this woman his name, even as harmless and interesting as she seemed. He swallowed and the collar on his neck felt tight for a moment. Looking up he saw Duncan watching him carefully, ready to come rescue him if needed.

The bartender set his drinks on the bar behind him and Geralt turned picking them up and held one out to Duncan in a gesture. “I’m sorry, you're very beautiful, and I like your hair a lot, but I go by whatever he tells me to.” Smiling broadly at Duncan, Geralt looked over at the ork next to him briefly. “And I should really be getting back to him with his drink.”

The woman took the rejection with a laugh. "Smooth. And a shame, but I can see you're in good hands. Have fun." She gave him another smile and moved away, rejoining her group of friends.

***

Duncan had watched the exchange with interest. Geralt had tensed up for a moment, but then relaxed and Duncan had seen no reason to come get him. Walking back to him, Geralt couldn't contain the grin spreading across his face and Duncan wondered what exactly she had said to him.

He took his drink and let Geralt settle on his lap again, held in one arm. The sweetness of the coke kicked his body into gear once more, after a small slump in energy that finishing playing with Geralt had caused. 

"So, did she try to poach you away from me?" Duncan grinned and pulled Geralt into a kiss by his ponytail.

***

Beaming, Geralt leaned back a bit to look at Duncan. He guzzled half his water and then took a huge breath wiping his mouth. “She liked my hair, and my smile, and my kitty eye _implants_.” Geralt’s laugh at that was kept quiet, meant only for the two of them. “And yes. She wanted to know what I liked. I think she wanted to play, but I told her I was with _you_.”

Leaning forward and putting his hands on the back of the couch, Geralt couldn’t resist taking a kiss from Duncan. It wasn’t at all polite and a bit possessive. Duncan’s free hand snaked up under the back of his shirt to run up his spine and Geralt shivered. He liked this place, quite a lot.

Being around so many others who were like him and Duncan gave him a chance to just be. Not to worry about anyone thinking he was a freak. Here he was just one among many, all people who liked similar things. And though the boot licking seemed weird to him, and not very sexually interesting, it wasn’t freakish in Geralt’s mind, anymore than his desire to get cut or caned was. It was just different, not good or bad. Not hurting anyone.

It had made him a little skittish to see the man swinging the leather belt and Geralt did wonder if he would be able to handle it if they saw someone getting whipped to the point of bleeding, or if they really seemed to hate it, even though he knew in his mind that they would actually not be hating it. It was still jarring to see and he wasn’t sure his mind could separate the real torture he’d experienced from the kind of play torture a person might engage in here.

The belt had made him pause for a second because it brought back a flood of memories of Eskel belting him too. And _that_ had been good. Fucked up, but good. He’d liked it and that had been so strange, because he couldn’t separate leather from a bad kind of pain anymore but with Eskel he _had_ and he’d gotten off hard on it.

Geralt guzzled the rest of his water and set his empty bottle on the little stand next to the couch. “I like this place.” Settling back onto Duncan’s lap in a straddle Geralt pushed his head up under Duncan’s chin. “I’d let you bring me back here again.”

***

Geralt suddenly claiming him with a kiss had left Duncan breathless. That was new, but he liked it. He liked Geralt showing everyone that Duncan was his, just like Geralt was Duncan's. And he took a strange sort of pride in the fact that Geralt had quite a few admirers. 

"Good, because I would like to go again sometime. Maybe play a little harder then. When Eskel and Rhys are at the lighthouse next time." _So we can fuck when we get home._ There was no need to say it.

"It's different from playing at home, or at the Rosemary. Even if no one is watching, it's different. Just because it's public." Tracing figures of eight along Geralt's spine, Duncan watched the crowd for a little while. Wondering whether to bring up what was on his mind. He didn't want to tank their mood. But in the end, he was too curious and he thought it might be important.

"I saw you stop to watch the scene with the belt. You looked a little freaked out. Do you want to talk to me about that? Is there something I should know so I can keep you safe?" Duncan tightened his embrace - not holding Geralt in place, but letting him know everything was alright.

***

It seemed like something Duncan should have known already, but wracking his mind Geralt could never remember talking to Duncan about it. At least not in any depth at all. “I guess it’s never come up for us before? I don’t like getting hit by leather. I mean, I _did_ , but I— it’s really complicated.”

Geralt was surprised by how not frightened he felt talking to Duncan about this, but Duncan was holding onto him in a lovely comforting way, and he still had the leash attached to the collar on his neck. Duncan had never done anything to him he didn’t expressly want. “You know I’ve been in a dungeon before? And I don’t mean a play one like here.”

Maybe Duncan knew this about him or maybe he didn’t, but either way there wasn’t any tension in his body in response to the news, so Geralt doubted he was surprised by it. “One time it was because they thought I had assassinated someone _very_ important. It wasn’t me, but they were determined to torture a confession out of me anyway. ”

“The long and the short of it is that I used to really get off on being flogged. But after having my back whipped down to the bone by a cat’o’nine tails I could never handle it again. That’s what those long scars on my back are from. It’s why I like Rhys using his cane and not his other toys on me.” Geralt let himself melt into the comfort of Duncan’s arms. Warm and safe.

“I don’t think it’s a problem. Even here. As long as you watch me, let me move away from that kind of scene. Or if I don’t and I seem a bit lost take me away yourself. But you always watch me.” Geralt sighed and thought about the weird mix of arousal and shame that had come with letting Eskel spank him with his belt. “Eskel has explored it very carefully with me. Made a leather belt feel incredibly good again, but afterward it was hard. I think that’s why that in particular drew my attention. I _did_ enjoy that with him. Not even that long ago.”

“In general though, getting hit with leather is very hard no for me. And seeing it… it could be startling for me? I don’t really know, because I’ve never had the chance to watch others play before.” Geralt was starting to feel sleepy. Eyes blinking slowly. Despite the heavy topic of conversation he thought he could easily drift off in Duncan’s arms right now. Perhaps he should have gotten a snack at the bar along with his water. The hum of playing was draining out of his body and leaving behind a tired sack of muscles.

***

Duncan had worked hard at not tensing up at the mention of Geralt being tortured, he didn't want to startle him. Geralt tended to try and defuse Duncan's anger even if it wasn't directed at him and right now that was really not important. He ran his palms over the scars on Geralt's back, taking a deep breath.

"Thank you for telling me. With so many kinky people in one place, there's always the chance to see something that's upsetting. Even if you know everyone is enjoying themselves. And people have bad reactions to things for far less serious reasons that you have. Doesn't change anything about how awful it feels. But yeah, I can watch out for you, knowing that." Speaking of which-

"We should head home. Let's walk a bit and get something to eat. Get some air. I can see your post-play slump happening and I think we've tried enough new things for today." 

When Geralt nodded, Duncan took the collar off of him and kissed him. "You do look amazing in a collar." Coiling the rope and storing it in the backpack, Duncan waited for Geralt to get up and then took his hand, leading him out onto the street and in the direction of the nearest Vietnamese takeout. He could hear some egg rolls calling their names from there.

***

“Mmm, I could use a snack. I can smell something good already.” Geralt could have followed his nose all around London to amazing new foods if he let himself. He was a _little bit_ more restrained in it than Eskel was with his sweet things though. At least his food choices had protein in them.

The cooler night air was refreshing. A noticeable change from the warm, somewhat stagnant air in the club. All those people in a small place made the air inside humid and Geralt welcomed the freshness outside. Walking along he slipped his arm around Duncan’s waist, leaned into him for support more mental than physical. He was sure Duncan didn’t mind and no one on the street would care here. It was lovely to be able to do.

Duncan steered him into a tiny hole in the wall, brightly lit neon sign proclaiming something Geralt couldn’t quite read yet and a word he could—take-out. Food to go. Heaven, possibly on a stick. Geralt grinned wide and let Duncan order him whatever Duncan thought he’d enjoy, he was rarely disappointed.

It turned out to be rolls of vegetables and meat, fried in a paper-thin wrapper of rice dough. They were delicious and Geralt ate several ravenously. Slowing down and enjoying the last two Geralt decided they were snail? Definitely snail. Interesting. Good, but interesting. He couldn't identify all the vegetables though and he made a mental note to ask Duncan about those later. Right now he had a more pressing question he wanted to address.

Crossing the street with his hand in Duncan’s Geralt gave it a gentle squeeze. “So, I liked the rope collar. A lot. You said we could go to Thekla’s and pick out a real one sometime or have one made?” Geralt tried to keep the eagerness in his question to a minimum. “What is Thekla’s?”

Geralt already had some ideas about what he might want, if he could have one made to his desires. But he would settle for something else if that wasn’t possible. He was very interested in just what was available. The one the troll had worn was thick and leather. Then there was the leash to consider.

***

"It's a shop that sells sex toys and stuff. Ropes, clothes, everything. Thekla is the owner, she's a troll and she specializes in selling and making all of this special for orks and trolls. But everyone is welcome there. Rhys and Eskel went there for ropes already." Duncan bit into his matcha bun, still warm from the oven, and chewed before continuing.

"Rhys had my collar made there. Thekla does the leatherworking herself, and she enjoys making things to fit peoples' wishes. So if you've got an idea what you want, she can make it happen, I'm pretty sure." He offered the bag in his hand to Geralt. He had gotten matcha, black sesame, and coffee buns and their delicious smell wafted from the open bag.

Picking a coffee one for himself next, Duncan turned a corner into a side street. He didn't really feel like taking the underground home, the night was warm and he enjoyed walking with Geralt. And their way wouldn't lead them through any of the really dangerous parts of town.

"Are you up for walking the rest of the way? Shouldn't take us more than an hour or so." Duncan was reasonably sure he already knew the answer to this.

***

Geralt nodded his head enthusiastically. “I’m always up for a walk.” Mulling over the information about Thekla’s in his mind as they strolled down the sidewalk Geralt chewed on a black sesame bun. It was just as good as the fried rolls had been. When he had a more clear idea formed in his head blocks later, Geralt spoke up.

“I’d like to have one made. If we can. Something that is only mine, with words tooled on the inside so they sit against my skin to remind me I’m yours when I’m with you.” Geralt weighed the words he wanted in his mind, unsure of how Duncan would feel about them. “Duncan’s Whore, or maybe just Duncan’s if you don’t like that word. It’s never bothered me though, I kind of like it honestly.”

“I even think it would be nice to have it be leather, I don’t mind the feel of it. As long as it’s only sitting on me.” Geralt laughed at the oddity of that. “I wear leather pants and armor all the time.”

As for color and style, that didn’t matter to Geralt nearly as much and he told Duncan so. “You can choose the rest. If you have a certain look you like on me or color, I’d like wearing it for you.” And he would. Geralt knew it would make him feel proud to display something Duncan enjoyed like that. A little thank you between them.

***

Duncan hesitated, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say without hurting Geralt. He didn't mind the words themselves, far from it. But they were such a visible representation of the trust Geralt put in him, and Duncan didn't feel really worthy of that trust. 

He was perfectly aware that this made no sense and that it was his anxiety talking. It didn't help shake the feeling at all. And he feared that Geralt would misunderstand. 

"Can I sleep on the words? I like the idea but I want to give it a bit of time?" He gave a reassuring squeeze to Geralt's hand, pulled him close for a short hug.

"I like leather for the collar. And a leash? I enjoyed having one, very much. It's- I don't do that with anyone else. It's special." Duncan would have liked to savor this moment whole-heartedly but couldn't ignore the anxiety churning in his stomach. He at least hoped he was able to hide it.

***

There was something there and Geralt felt it, in the pit of his stomach. Whether it was the words he wanted or that he wanted one made special instead of choosing a generic one that lots of people used he wasn't sure. Duncan claimed to like the idea and those words came with a reassuring hug but Geralt couldn't help but feel that maybe he'd fumbled the start.

Maybe Duncan had only liked it in the moment or only liked the temporary rope. No- he'd just said he liked the idea of leather for it. Geralt shook off the insecurities trying to play with his mind. "Sure. You can sleep on it." He sounded a lot more at ease with that than he felt.

"When you've thought on it, you let me know if you're alright with what I suggested." _What I want_ went unspoken. "If those words still don't sit right, then you can buy me something already made, a common one. I don't want you to have something made if it's not special."

They walked on in silence for a bit while Geralt searched desperately for a new topic of conversation. He didn't want to ruin their night. It had been _fun_. At least Duncan still had a firm grip around his shoulders so he hadn't fucked up too bad by asking for the collar.

"I liked the fried rolls. Can't say I've eaten snails in a while but they were good." Geralt gave a genuine smile then. "And, I could read the sign that said Take-Out!" This was quite an achievement so soon and Geralt was sure he'd just memorized the arrangement of the letters as opposed to truly reading them but still he was proud.

***

"I'm glad you liked the snails." Duncan grinned, comforted by what he was sure real joy at the experience. "You're a fast learner. It's good to know you won't starve if you ever get lost here."

There had still been disappointment in Geralt's voice and posture, so Duncan knew he had not been able to hide his anxiety. And he was sure that Geralt was right now busy assuming the worst in the privacy of his head. Although the fact that they were still talking was a good sign. But he didn't want Geralt to keep picking at it.

When they came across a small park, Duncan steered Geralt towards it, chose a bench underneath a huge, old oak tree, its overhanging branches shadows above them. 

"Sit with me for a bit?" Duncan turned sideways, pulled one leg up on the bench so Geralt could lean into his chest. When he had Geralt safely in his arms, Duncan took a deep breath and hoped he would get this right.

"I get the feeling you are very quietly freaking out about what I said. Or didn't say. You didn't do anything wrong. And I _want_ this, all of it. This is not about the words, at all. I love calling you my whore when we play." Duncan still wasn't sure he could put into words what made him hesitate.

"You put so much faith in me. Trust me so much. I love that, but it also frightens me. No idea if I'm making sense here. Please don't walk away from me if I don't." Tightening his hold on Geralt, Duncan held his breath.

***

The urge to run was squashed by Duncan's words and the way his strong arms pulled Geralt up against his chest. Geralt could feel the tension there and he thought Duncan might be holding him a little for his own benefit too. Nodding his head into Duncan's chest Geralt breathed deep and let it out.

Geralt started very slowly chipping away at what Duncan had said until he thought he knew what was going on. "If. I didn't screw it up by asking too soon. And if. You want all of this. If. it's not about the word whore. Then why are you worrying?"

Making himself small in Duncan's grip Geralt snuck his face up to Duncan's neck for an extremely quick kiss. "You don't want me freaking out alone in my head. There's no reason for you to do it either. Please. Can you trust me to trust you?"

That made no sense either but neither did Duncan's worries right now and Geralt wanted Duncan to feel better. He'd bothered to stop here in a park in public at night to lay Geralt's fears to bed, Duncan deserved some comfort.

***

"I'm worrying because what if I fuck this up. Sure, we both could deal with that somehow. But I feel like you handed me this fragile thing. It's beautiful but if I drop it, it will shatter." Duncan paused and laughed quietly at himself.

"I _know_ you're not fragile. And I know we're both carrying this, and that it's not that easy to break. But I still worry. It's what I do. It doesn't even need a good reason, or a rational one. But the idea of going to have this collar made for you, and everything it stands for, that really brought home what we have together and how much I don't want to lose it."

"At least it wasn't outright panic like last time. And you kept it together, too. I guess we're learning." With a smile, Duncan kissed Geralt's temple, squeezed him hard in his arms for a moment.

***

Geralt had huffed out a laugh at the thought of being fragile. “I took a pitchfork to the chest, and while I suppose it did _almost_ kill me, I managed to pull through with some help from Ciri. I am far from fragile. I appreciate the thought though.”

“Come on.” Geralt uncurled himself from Duncan’s lap and tugged at Duncan’s hand. Hard. “Let’s keep walking, we won’t get home sitting here.” When Duncan got up and followed him, Geralt started talking again. “I am glad you love what we have together and don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to either.”

“So if you need a night or two to mull it over and let your brain calm down to the idea, then take it. It’s not like I don’t have those moments. Hells, I just had one myself.” Geralt laughed. “You wouldn’t believe the things that went through my head when you paused at that idea. I mean, you might, but yeah. Not good things.” Geralt shook his head at himself.

“And yes. This went a lot better. No ‘Fuck no’ and no running away or locking myself in a room. We’re not as easy to shatter as you think and I feel.” Geralt bumped his shoulder into Duncan’s and pulled Duncan’s arm around his shoulder. “Take me home, sleep on it and so will I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content into:  
> public play


	17. As You Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _With the comforting weight of Geralt's legs across his own, Rhys leaned into Eskel and took a swig of his beer. He would miss this, all of them together. And he hated thinking about the fact that when he was back on the Continent, Eskel would go back on the Path eventually._  
>  One last evening.

"There's swordfighting and adventure in this one, you'll like it." Rhys flopped down on the couch between Eskel and Geralt, having brought beers, and a ginger ale for Duncan. 

"And rodents of unusual size." Duncan followed with a bowl of popcorn of equally unusual size, and a much smaller bowl of wasabi peas and chili rice crackers that he passed to Geralt for safekeeping. He petted the vine to settle it before sitting down, otherwise it would keep bothering them and try to wave its leaves in front of everyones' faces to get attention.

Pulling Geralt close and picking a wasabi pea from the bowl, Duncan gestured to the AR overlay to start the trid. The sharp taste burning his tongue, Duncan pushed his nose into Geralt's hair with a quiet sigh. This was their last evening, and he didn't want it to be. Of course they had already planned their next visit to the Continent, but it would be a while. 

The thought of having the apartment to themselves again was strange. They all did need their own space after sharing it, and each other, for weeks now. But Duncan already missed being able to just knock on a door, or walk into another room to be able to talk to Geralt and Eskel and to cuddle with them. 

Still, there was one afternoon and night left. And Duncan intended to enjoy it.

***

Eskel leaned into Rhys, winding his arm around his shoulders and to Geralt’s ponytail. He gave it a quick tug to hear Geralt squeak. It earned him a mock dirty look and an admonishment. “Not a word about that noise.” 

Raising his eyebrows as he raised his beer to his lips, Eskel took a long drink. He was really happy here. As much as he was ready to leave the fast pace and blinding lights of London behind, he wasn’t excited to leave _this_ behind. The simple happiness that came with being together and not worrying about pissing off the local alderman, getting spit on, or getting chased out of town.

There were definitely things about London that he preferred. The ability to hold Geralt’s or Rhys’ hand anywhere without thinking about it too hard. Thekla’s. Oranges. Having the four of them together on a couch to cuddle, and a couch big enough to handle it. 

Eskel reminded himself that the orks were coming to visit again though. It wasn’t as though they’d never been apart before. It was just a little more bittersweet this time maybe. It would make seeing them again even better though. And there was always a watcher through the portal. He could still send a message here and there when he was out on the Path.

The movie started and a young blond woman appeared on the screen, Eskel smiled. “Oh, you’ll like this one Geralt.” Stuffing a handful of popcorn in his mouth Eskel cuddled into Rhys and waited for the swordfighting to show up.

***

Geralt took the ribbing in stride. It was nice to see Eskel in such a mood. He was rarely so carefree at home. Taking a handful of the green and white dried peas Duncan had given him, he caught Duncan looking at him with a level eyebrow. The look said— proceed with caution— and Geralt grinned. He tried one dried pea first. It was crunchy, and delightful, and it _burned_. Oh yes. Duncan knew him too well.

Before Geralt knew it, his entire handful was gone, one after the other having gone into his mouth and been crunched away. His mouth was on fire and he was grateful for the beer Rhys had brought him. He nabbed one of the orange crackers, the pepper smell wafting off of them tickling his nose. Geralt was sure he was going to love hating those as well. Already he knew that next to Duncan and Rhys the thing he would miss most about London was the food.

Geralt _liked_ it here. He loved having all the people he loved in one place. He loved no one thinking twice about his hair or his eyes. Now that he had earbuds to make it livable he loved the zip and zoom of all the people in the city. The wide variety of them all- humans, orks, trolls, even elves and dwarves. Sure there were signs, hints, that it wasn’t all perfect. In some ways and some places it was even blatant. But nothing like on the Continent. At least not here in London, not yet.

Geralt wasn’t worried about leaving for a while. The orks would come to Corvo, and they would come back to London. It would work out. This wasn’t goodbye, this was just a good snuggle with perfectly painful food and better filtered beer than the Continent had. The only thing wrong with it was that he didn’t have enough contact.

A problem he easily remedied by getting up and ordering Duncan over. Geralt sat back down, mostly on Duncan’s lap, rolling toward the trid, spicy snacks in hand and beer on the table. Stretching his legs out long he laid them over Rhys and Eskel’s laps and sighed. Much better. Rhys and Eskel automatically put their hands on Geralt’s thigh and calf making it all perfect. 

The short man, the giant man, and fancy man on the screen abducted the blond and Geralt scoffed. “Bastards!”

***

Rhys giggled at Geralt's indignation. He loved this movie, and he had chosen it because he was fairly sure it worked for travelers in time and space. Just like Star Wars had for Geralt. It was a shame Rhys hadn't recorded Geralt's reenactment of Darth Vader using the Force, including Eskel's bemused reaction.

With the comforting weight of Geralt's legs across his own, Rhys leaned into Eskel and took a swig of his beer. He would miss this, all of them together. And he hated thinking about the fact that when he was back on the Continent, Eskel would go back on the Path eventually.

Rhys knew that Eskel could watch out for himself. He had done this much longer than Rhys was even alive. It was less worrying about the dangers of it as the fact that he had no way of knowing where Eskel would be at any given time, and had no way to reach him. If something went wrong, news of it would reach Rhys late, maybe not at all. It wasn't like all that many people would bother about a dead witcher, except maybe tossing him in a ditch somewhere, or in a shallow grave.

Shaking himself out of these gloomy thoughts, Rhys shifted his attention to astral space, basking in the golden and green glow of their auras. By now there were connections everywhere, an entangled web of them. Rhys followed a few of them, memorising the specific sound and taste and smell of all of them together. There were elements from everyone in there, but it was something unique in itself. 

The smell of a clearing in the woods and the taste of dew from Rhys himself. The ocean smell and sound of the surf from Duncan. The taste of honey and the sound of a glass harp from Eskel. And the smell of pine resin and a trickle of water on stone from Geralt. He would have recognized them all anywhere, even in a crowd of people.

With a pleased hum Rhys rested his head on Eskel's shoulder, one hand petting Geralt, the other sneaking under Duncan's shirt.

***

_You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die._

The first sword fight of the move started and Duncan enjoyed Eskel's and Geralt's enjoyment of it, and of the whole movie. Watching it, Duncan couldn't help but notice that a huge theme of the movie was people who are not what they seem to be. It kind of was a theme for all of them. People assumed things about witchers, and about orks. And often didn't bother to find out if they were right.

Rhys and he often had used that to their advantage, especially while they were still working the shadows. Everyone thought Duncan was the dumb hired muscle, and Rhys the squishy mage who couldn't fight except with spells. Duncan used to be bothered by it, but these days he was mostly amused by it. 

They had seen enough to the Continent to know what people assumed about witchers. Mutant freaks with no emotions who might be useful but also to be shunned. _That_ still bothered Duncan, when he witnessed it. He was glad that at least usually people didn't dare attack witchers, and those who did were usually outclassed and soon dead.

Hugging Geralt to himself, Duncan buried his nose in Geralt's hair to breathe in his scent.

***

Geralt wiggled back into Duncan’s embrace. Curled his arm under his head and watched the screen with interest. For some reason he liked the fancy man quite a lot. He had a spirit and backbone that Geralt related to. Also he wasn’t bad with a sword.

Laying across everyone warm and comfortable, it was easy to get engrossed in the movie. Geralt thought he might miss these stories he could see with his eyes. They were like books, but told in a different way. He got to see someone else’s imagination brought to life with them. It might be different than what his own imagination would have come up with and that was half the fun.

Still he would miss having Duncan read to him. When they came to Corvo, Duncan had better bring his new book. In the meantime Geralt pondered, if they could set something up just outside the portal in Wales where he could leave letters for them. Step through and drop it off securely before returning to the R&T. Or maybe Rhys could put a portal a little closer to home for him.

Geralt couldn’t help but squirm a little as Buttercup berated the man in black, revealed to be the Dread Pirate Roberts. And then he berated her right back. _Life is pain Highness. Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something._ Duncan squeezed him a little tighter and the argument continued.

***

Eskel stroked Geralt’s calf through his leather pants, slightly amused at how a little lover's tiff was evoking such emotion from a supposedly emotionless man. _As you wiiish_. The man in black rolled down the hill. Eskel snorted at how the man didn’t even properly try to shield himself as he rolled.

Something in those words though, just as they had revealed to Buttercup Wesley’s true identity, sounded very familiar to Eskel. Suddenly he was sure that he’d heard Rhys say them to him before. Just as he was sure they carried the same weight for Rhys as they did for Wesley.

Eskel’s snort turned into a low laugh, quiet and at ease. He turned and caught Rhys’ eye, that devious little glint there. With a quick grab Eskel captured Rhys’ jaw and turned it back to the trid, placed a gentle, chaste kiss right behind Rhys’ jaw below his ear. Completely aware that Rhys used that spot to convey something to him. Eskel wanted to send the same message. Everything was alright.

***

With the movies over, all the popcorn and snacks eaten and empty beer bottles brought to the recycler, Rhys curled up on the couch again. Geralt had rolled off of Duncan's lap into the spot between Eskel and Duncan, and Rhys didn't reclaim it but nestled into Eskel from the other side.

"I don't feel like getting up. Can we sleep here? I want all of you with me tonight.' Wrapping his arms around Eskel, Rhys pushed him closer to Geralt so he could pet both of them.

Duncan tipped Geralt into Eskel's arm and got up. "I'll get blankets." 

A couple of minutes and several bathroom runs later, they were huddled on the couch again, but had turned it into a proper bed with sheets and blankets and pillows. Rhys had been the first to undress and the others had followed, cuddling into each other. 

With Eskel and Geralt in the middle, Rhys had one arm under Eskel's head, the other slung above him and resting on Geralt's side. Duncan hugged Geralt to himself and was petting Eskel, sometimes touching Rhys' arm with his fingertips.

"I don't want this to be over." Rhys gave a little sigh and pushed his nose into Eskel's hair at the nape of his neck.

***

“None of it’s really over.” Geralt mumbled into his own elbow where it was curled up under his head as a makeshift extra pillow. “We’ll all see each other again when you two visit us.” Light and hopeful, if a bit groggy, Geralt genuinely wasn’t concerned. Of course he would miss both orks a lot, but he _would_ see them again. “I’ll admit it would be nice to be able to send you letters or gifts in the meantime though.”

Pondering that idea Geralt came back to his earlier thought about a portal. “Do you think it would be possible to have a second portal back on the Continent that connected to the one in Wales? Maybe a bit closer to Corvo Bianco, or at it, where I could keep it hidden? Then stepping through and leaving you two a gift would be easy. All we’d need is a secure hiding place by the portal in Wales that I could stash it in.”

“Geralt’s right, you know. ‘M still gonna send you a watcher with a message anytime I stop in Novigrad on the Path. I’ll even stay the night and wait for you to send a message back. ‘S not like we are jus’ gone. Not that I wouldn’t love to take you both home with me right now, but you have lives to live here too. Work to do, jus’ like me.” Eskel tipped his head forward and let his forehead rest against Rhys’.

Eskel was going to miss them both though. Terribly. The ease of being around them. He would welcome them back to Corvo though after a short trip along the Path. And that would be a wonderful thing to come home to.

***

"I know." They were right, Rhys did know that. But right now, it all sounded so far away for him. Except the one thing. The one that made him prop himself up on his elbow after kissing Eskel.

"I _could_ open another portal to Corvo. It would be so much easier for all of us. And you could even visit each other." He thought about it, where to place it, winding strands of Eskel's hair around his fingers. 

"It shouldn't be in Corvo directly, I think. Maybe a little way off. So people don't pick up on the fact that you two travel with portals. There's bound to be talk when Eskel is suddenly there, and no one has seen him arrive." 

Rhys smiled down on Eskel, half buried against his chest. "If you send me a message from Novigrad and you stay for a bit, I can try and come visit. At least for a night."

***

Duncan listened while tracing circles on Geralt's chest, watching Rhys perk up as soon as he could make plans. Rhys wasn't good at being helpless, at not knowing what to do. But as soon as he had a plan, he was irresistible. 

"I like it. There's just one thing. We shouldn't go for longer visits alone, neither of us. It's less of a problem for you two", he looked at Geralt and Eskel, then up at Rhys again, "but if we spend long visits apart from each other, even if the other one here doesn't notice the time pass - it will add up. I'm okay with not living as long here - it's not like I am actually losing that time. But I don't want to lose time with you." 

He reached over to Rhys, brushing his fingertips over Rhys' cheek. Rhys leaned into the touch and nodded. "You're right. Let's say two days apart, no longer. It won't happen that often anyway, I think. How does that sound to you two?"

***

Geralt nodded enthusiastically. Already excited about the idea of having a portal closer to home than a two week horse ride away. Plus the prospect of a faster way to visit Eskel on the Path. Despite all his professed hatred of portals, Geralt had found Rhys’ to be less violent and bodily discomforting than those made by the sorceresses trained at Aretuza.

Rolling on his back Geralt slung one arm each around Duncan and Eskel, scooting high up on the pillows so their heads could rest on his shoulders. He could send Rhys dried pressed rare flowers and herbs that he found. And writing to Duncan would give him the change to practice his English.

The fingers of Geralt’s hand brushed against Rhys’ forehead where it rested nestled right up next to the side of Eskel’s head again. “I like this idea. I wouldn’t mind seeing Eskel more often too. And yes. I know you already cut your trips shorter for me.”

***

Duncan’s words sat like a stone in Eskel’s gut. He was aware that the orks aged faster, or rather that him and Geralt aged so much slower, and while he wasn’t ignoring it like he had with Aldith he didn’t enjoy the reminder any more. The thought of trips to the Continent tearing the orks apart in time and aging one more than the other was deeply unsettling. He almost wanted to tell Rhys no. Don’t come. But then he wanted to see Rhys and he was sure that Duncan would come see Geralt sometimes too.

Like Duncan it didn’t bother Eskel that they might see less time in their world by coming to the witchers', because they would live the same amount of time regardless of where they chose to spend it. But he wanted them to be able to spend it together.

“If you put in a portal to Corvo, and you come to visit me for a night in Novigrad, couldn’t Duncan come with you? Say hi, then step through to Geralt for the night?” To Eskel this seemed like the best solution. To keep the days even and he’d get to say hi and give Duncan a hug too. “That way you spend the same amount of time off your world together and nothing gets uneven? You go back together in the morning in a day or two?”

The stone in his gut felt lighter at the idea of keeping things even. Eskel pulled Rhys’ leg over his waist and slipped an arm under his neck. Moving closer into Geralt, Eskel cuddled both him and Rhys in further and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, Eskel let the combined smells of all of them play over his nose. The clean skin, spices, and shaving soap. Listened to their breaths and the beats of their hearts, lub dubbing in a melancholy symphony. Committing it to memory.

***

Duncan found himself nodding along to what Eskel was saying. He wouldn't have minded that Rhys' and his personal time shifted a few days, especially since he might have gone to visit Geralt alone. But this was better.

"I like this. It also means that if something should happen, we're together - at least in the same world. I can ride from Corvo to Novigrad. I can't open a portal and no one else here can. Let's do it like this." 

Reaching over, Duncan carded through Eskel's hair. "And I know already that I will want to see you when we have the chance."

He settled down with one arm thrown over Geralt. Rhys had nestled into Eskel's back, one arm slung over him, and now took Duncan's hand in his. Closing the embrace that held Eskel and Geralt between them.

Listening to his lovers' breathing growing slower and deeper, Duncan lay awake and watched them. Kept watch so he would feel safe in the knowledge that they were all here with him, until sleep came and stole him away.

art by [Dingoat](http://dingoat.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content into:  
> all the fluff  
> discussion of December/Mayfly romance


End file.
